The Gravedigger 3: Last God
by Kamagua
Summary: The Destroyer returns and with him spawns a new age. But in the shadows of his chaos, a deeper evil stirs. Once again, the Old Gods yearn for return, and it is in the soul of one man, one Gravedigger, where Azeroth's fate lies
1. Prologue: Greymane the Great

*****Story formally known as "The Last God."*****

This is the third installment of the Gravedigger series, BUT it is completely stand alone. I will vaguely describe all necessary events required to understand the storyline, but like stated, only vaguely. If you want to know the full extent of what happens, feel free to go back and read the **Gravedigger: Dawn of Hop****e**, and **Gravedigger: March of the fallen**.

But again, you do not need to read those two for this story. Think of it like Star Wars, the early tales are simply a prelude to the good stuff. XD

To begin, let us start with a prologue; it is two parts, only because it would be too long as one chapter. Gotta give natural intermissions.

Anyway, enjoy

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"_Great men are born of stature. Victorious men are crafted from circumstance. Legendary men are molded within the annuals of time. All men, title aside, bear one similarity, one common quality…fear. Find what brings a man to cowardice, and he will obey you like an animal."_

_Nathanos Marris, speech given upon induction into the Rangers, three months prior to the great plague._

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**_Seven years before the fall of the Lich King, upon a cold, breezy, summer night, a small gathering of men meet; a conglomeration of individuals packed into the halls of one building, into one room. Within the halls of Gilneas' Town center, the walls tremble from the grand commands of a great man, of a King. Two men, led by King Greymane, Ruler of the Gilneas Nation, assemble items necessary for a trip of overwhelming proportions; a venture worthy of Greymane himself. _**

**_But it is what stirs the blood of the King's veins that motivates this departure. It is what strangles his sanity that drives this expedition. It is what curses his heart that brings impatience…and anxiety…_**

"This is not right!" My heavy feet clank against the thick, wooden floors. "Stop wasting time!"

"My lord," Captain Kowl gawks uselessly across the room. "My lord, why the haste?"

Rage grips my arm as it slams into the table, "Do not question me!" I control myself, lowering my voice the best one can. "Just do it…"

My servant, Grin "Gin" Jhok, scampers across the room, carrying within his arms a mesh of miscellaneous items. He throws it upon the table before wrapping all it within a thick, brown, leather cloth.

A toothbrush slips from his grip, slamming onto the old, dusty floor. He ceases all activity to stare awkwardly upon this tiny instrument. His body quivers gently as he glances to me and then to his hygienic tool. Pick it up, Gin. Pick it up, or leave it.

He hesitates for a moment longer, letting precious time slip through his wrinkled, aged fingers. Pick it up…or leave it!

Finally he flinches, reaching to the floor. Annoyingly, he rolls it between his fingers as he gazes disgustingly upon the wooden item. Charcoals churn within my chest, fueling a torrent of heated rage throughout my body.

"Pick it up, Gin!" Uncontrollably I shout, "Pick it up, and finish your damned work!"

Instantly, he whips upright, fear spreading across his old face. Shaking eyes dance within the hollowed sockets of his skull. A tongue quivers within the damp, dark orifice that is his mouth. Hands quake wildly.

After a brief, delayed moment, he throws the item into his pile, completing his duty as properly told. Old Gin, he is a good man – a tall, good man. A thick, white blanket of white hair covers his folding scalp. Gray, aged eyes match the wrinkles that one could once call flesh. He is a strong man, a very strong man, indeed. But even I, the mighty Greymane, bring the man to his knee.

Yes, many men find themselves within the very situation that Gin is pitted in now; my strength and power are overwhelming to the greatest of man!

But, sadly, modesty grips me currently, forcing my own humble thoughts from my mind. A task is at hand, and it must be completed.

"I have finished, Lord." Gin scoops the bag into a large pack and rests both upon a heavy, wooden chair.

A smirk forms upon his face, and, as a king will do, I nod to keep it plastered firmly there. He is a diligent worker. That is why I have kept him since my own birth. My parents knew a great, hard man when they saw him. And I know a worker when I see him.

"My lord, I have my property properly gathered as well." The Captain throws a heavy sack upon his shoulders, bracing for the move, as a good soldier should.

In response, Gin hurriedly places his mound of assorted goods upon his back. Both of them are prepared, so it is time for their grand leader, their grand Greymane, to guide them down our glorious path.

Swiftly, I shift and march steadily towards the door. Heavy, hulking boots crack upon the wooden floor. My large, wide, tree-trunk arm extends outwards, fingers wrapping around the metallic knob.

With a firm twist, it opens, and I swing it open. I rush forward…wait! My lumbering form spins, knocking back both of my loyal companions. They should have not trailed so closely!

I motion to them, directing them outside. My large, bear like hand latches to the side of the door until both escape outside, and I throw it shut. Promptly, I pivot, facing towards a small container behind me. Gently, softly, King, take the contents from within.

Bulking, oversized fingers curl around the small edges of the wooden construct. A small, unsealed latch bounces against the side as I drag the lid up. Without hesitation, I reach, grab wrapped object within, and…

"My Lord?" The Captain startles me.

Swiftly, I shove the mummified item into my thick trench coat and spin, "Captain! Mind your interruptions, you fool!"

Kowl flinches and steps from the door as I approach him, "Apologizes, my lord."

I dart across the room, letting the interloping man close the door behind me. My hands pat my chest, ensuring that the item rests where it should.

"No worries, Captain, I am a forgiving man. All wrongs have been overlooked."

He nods a few times, but I grow tired of watching him. Swiftly, I march forward, leading the other two forcefully and properly. Within seconds, we round a small bend, enter another hallway and aim for a large, curling staircase before us.

Our feet ring weak echoes through the narrow, hollow halls. Packs jingle with useless items as my two followers heave themselves onward. Wooden planks creak as we near the edge of the floor and begin our descent.

Cold, wooden railings glide beneath my giant paw. Dull thuds radiate from the strong, well-constructed steps -- built of my very hand. Padding upon the stairs absorb the bulk of the sound, and the gleam as moonlight glistens upon…

Moonlight…

Adrenaline fills my chest. Veins turn to ice, matching the temperature of the chilly banisters. My eyes divert upwards, and I stop. Peering through the large window is a circular disc.

Black blotches cover the vast surface of the white nuisance. Gray grooves nestle with the ominous horror. Black clouds tickle the edges of the monstrously, but do nothing to hide it from sight and mind. The Moon…

"King? Why have we stopped?" Gin speaks to my quietly.

Yes, why have you stopped, great king? Do not let that sinister sphere distract you. Stay strong; get to the bottom of these steps!

Swiftly, I jettison down the now screeching steps. Wood bends and buckles to my lumbering trot. Winding railings creak and shake as sweaty palms shake them. In seconds, I feel my thick, leathery soles slap the stone floor of the main living area.

Ahead of us rests a large, wooden door. Perfectly carved windows rest in the center of each door, but their sleek surfaces blur all reality and sight. Darkness creeps across the room, exposing the night as the true, silent stalker that it is.

My bulky arm shoots forward, fingers wrapping the metal handle. With a great force, I rip the door upon, letting a freezing, stinging breeze waft across my gentle flesh. The thick beard of mine shakes and drags back as the wind catches its steel fibers.

A thick, heavy leg drags from beneath the elongated coat of mine. It slaps into the large, rectangular slab of stone, followed quickly by the second. I shuffle forward a bit, positioning myself at the edge of the hobble street.

To my left is a long, straight path. Buildings are aligned against the pathway, but are dormant in the dark. My eyes follow the path until all that remains are distant blocks, and needling bends. That direction leads to the dock, and the sea beyond.

The moonlight that once blared brightly now rests dull behind the thick, gray clouds. All the land appears as dark as the vast cover overhead. All except for the random gray streaks that shift between Gilneas' buildings, and nestle within folds of clouds.

Matching the daunting, dreary nature of the visage, is the overpowering silence; it caresses the mind, tempting it to wander aimlessly. Even the wind is overwhelming through the piercing void of sound.

Where is he?

Then, as if on cue, a dull thudding echoes across the tranquil skies. Rhythmic drumming clanks louder and louder. Hard, hollow objects slam heavily against properly aligned streets.

Swiftly, my gaze diverts to my right. Second by second the thuds turn to loud clomping stomps, revealing what I have so anticipated for. Emerging over the turn of the gently, rolling hill is a horse. Quickly following is a heavy, black carriage.

The hurried ride pulls up along side us, stopping with the door perfectly aligned for our entry. Instantly ,the side door bursts open, exposing a shadowy, dark compartment suited just for a man of my grand stature.

Before I can reach for the frame, the rider shouts to us, "Lord Greymane, the master apologizes for his tardiness." Black, heavy robes shift as the man lifts cloth-covered hands back at the body of the carriage, "Do make yourself comfortable."

The stagecoach shakes as my large foot stomps the light, metal step. Reins shuffle in the hands of the cloaked, hooded driver, but I pay no heed to the peasant. Instead, I climb into the carriage, and shuffle to the seat on my right side. The ride shakes again as I flop into my position.

Gin clumsily squeezes past my legs, placing himself to my right. The Captain throws his pack forward, before promptly sitting to my left. He closes the door behind him, and the small, interior space grows silent. Across from the three of us is a pitch-black wall. All light seems to flee from the opposite end of this carriage. However, a red, plush seat can be made out from here, and, if my eyes play me right, I do believe I see legs wrapped behind a thick robe...

"Master Greymane, pleasure to see you are…commanding as ever." A voice barrels through the shadowy cover of other seat.

I squint, hoping to break through the heavy covering, but it is too dark. Quickly, I smirk, hiding any sign of confusion or alarm.

"Lord, marvelous to see you as…withdrawn as ever."

A heavy hand shifts through the shadows, lifting to the wall of the carriage. _RAP, RAP, RAP. _Dull drums roll from a curled fist as the man rattles the walls of the carriage.

Instantly, the sounds of whipping reins ring, and jerking wood shifts us forward. Sounds of trotting hooves return, but are drawn to the background. Shifting forward, a figure, head hidden in hood, body lost in robe, appears from the shadowy seat.

His right arm braces his leg, while returning moonlight, breaking through the side window, exposes his chin, mouth, and nose.

"So, Greymane, what say you on current pleas of your fellow allies?" The deep, crackling voice of the man slips past his straight lips.

I grunt loudly, "Allies? They are gnats amongst my grand shadow!" My voice projects forcefully, "King Menethil demands I send aid against the rising threat. He dares commands an answer from a man holding his weapon!"

I lean forward, rage fully exposed, "The Alliance will have my answer. I will not be viewed weak by pointy-eared elves, nor pitied by Lorderon's feeble ruler!"

My eyes narrow as I continue, "But I do not believe we came here for politics, did we, Lord?"

Eyes ripple through his dark cover. Red, burning coals light strangely at the back of his eyes. The flares quickly fade into two, gray pupils. That was rather odd. The light is playing tricks on me. No, no…my mind is doing all the witchery here. My nerves are rattling my normal strength. Do not let it overwhelm you, Greymane.

As my introvert moment comes to an end, the man leans back into his chair, but remains visible, "No, that we did not, Greymane."

There is a brief silence as his eyes sweep my body.

"Did you bring it?"

My eyes sweep him. My lips curl downward as my hand shifts into my pocket. Quickly, I draw the wrapped object from my jacket, letting the man see it clearly.

"Almost insulting you even had to ask, Lord."

He drags forward again, eyes locked on the small, tan item.

"Must make sure my investments are worthwhile, King. No offense intended, but one must ask."

He shifts across the chair, eyes never breaking from the object. His hands lift up and rock, letting his robe slide down his arms. Fingers curl slightly as both palms draw to the sides of the tiny package. Lips quiver gently, while foam eagerly coats their edges.

I snatch my arm back, shoving the object back into the same heaven near my own beating heart.

"My end of the bargain is exactly where it belongs, Lord." He glares, frustrated at me, "You will retrieve it when you fulfill your end."

As he scoots back into his chair, he frowns, "Always the businessman, my friend." He emits a weak chuckle, "Just would not be Greymane the Great without strings attached."

I make to speak, but a sudden jerk of the carriage, and with a heavy rocking motion, we begin to slow. Reins whip again, but this time we come to a stop. The wooden door flies open, letting the freezing, cold wind feed into the tiny room.

Swiftly, the Lord stands up, makes for the door, and carefully departs the vehicle. Without hesitation, I jump after him, exiting the carriage just as he moves from its side. I hear the other two scurry from behind, but I am distracted.

Ahead, rests rows of long, wooden docks. They jut in all directions, forming sharp bends and hook shapes for a vast fleet. A vast array of ships litters the harbor, but it is one that draws my attention.

Stationed nearest to us is a large, black vessel. Two, thick masts elevate high into the air. Ropes dangle and drag from the side wooden pillars as crewman work diligently upon the deck. Standard, curved railings give the fine rolling curve of the ship, as well as hold cannons.

The outside almost appears glazed, as if coated with a fine, reflective material. Black planks build the walls perfectly, like scales to a dragon. Speaking of which, at the bow rests a large, curling head of a black serpent's head. Masterfully crafted teeth are exposed within the opened mouth, while thin, hefty ears protrude backwards. Spikes line down the spine and back of the skull before ending at the deck.

"My vessel, Greymane." The lord slaps my arm forcefully; "Let your men make themselves at home. It is going to be a long voyage."

I nod weakly, but shout firmly, "Gin, Captain, go aboard the ship."

The Lord nods, "Yes, have the Skipper find you your stations. He should be the large, angry fellow shouting orders."

Gin and Kowl throw nods to us, sound off properly, and quickly scamper to the boat like children to a carnival. The two of us stand silently, both gawking at the grand design before us.

Sadly, as I watch, the sinister, always watching sphere appears in the top corner of my vision. Again, the white wrinkles ruin all sense of joy, or feeling of strength. The one, lone crater stares down upon me, calling to me and my…curse.

My lips smack, and I speak softly, "Lord, can your source truly give me a cure?"

He lets go of my shoulder, shuffling forward quickly. Irritated, I follow after him. We near the ship quickly, but my anger grows as his ignorance wears on me. My lips part, but do not let a word loose.

"Greymane," he stops, turning to me before me step upon the ramp that leads to the ship, "You almost insult me."

A spiteful smirk forms on his lips, "He can do more than simply heal what ails you, King. He can do much, much more."

Turning from me, he steps onto the thick, wooden slope and begins his ascension. A weak sense of relief nestles within my core, but does not truly envelop the harsh scratching within.

I make after him, but my eyes divert to the ominous orb overhead. It still breaks the sky, letting its unforgiving, unyielding rays burn my very flesh. It still breaks the sky, harassing my very sanity with each passing second.

"Lord Prestor," I speak to the man as we near the top, and make for the deck of the ship, "I have trusted you for quite some time…"

He turns, staring up at me. Again, I take sight of brief, burning embers within his eyes. Such strength and fury within his very glance. It almost feels as if fiery damnation reins from his very being; as if he can melt you with sight alone…

"And I have you, Greymane." He nods heavily, "I, Lord Daval Prestor, am a man of my word, aspect of…honesty." He turns from me, "In the end, King, we will both be very, very pleased."

At that, he makes across the deck, leaving me to stand alone. Looking down, I take in all the active crew. Men all of all sorts hurry across the cold, hard deck. They stir up torrent of sounds, but are hidden from the world. My two loyal soldiers, Daval, and myself, are the only ones that know of what is happening this day.

Of course, I do let out what haunts my dreams, what curses my veins. How can I? I am Greymane, and the world looks up to me. I am Greymane the Great, ruler of the strongest nation on this planet. I am Greymane…and I fear no man.

My eyes shift up, letting the malicious, distant planet fill my sight. And soon, I shall not fear you.


	2. Prologue: Omen

"_Upon the tainted platform, in disgrace of the very elements that bore him greatness, Gul'dan raised his hands to the sky, proclaiming power for all those witness. It was then the earth sundered, skies shattered, fires extinguished, and waters vaporized. It was then, and only then, da mighty Orc uttered the only sign of regret, guilt, and disbelief… 'What have I done?' And with those words, da planet weeped, and da cries of thousands vanished into nothingness, taking with them his very sanity…mon."_

_Grand-Shaman Tok Fon as he watched the mighty Warlock Gul'dan sever the bond between the orcs and the elements._

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One...month...that is how long it took for us to travel the waters...

The sea was harsh and unforgiving. Tides crashed across the decks, and waters slipped as rivulets through cannon ports. Air was dense, murky, and salty to the taste. Lungs were coated with painful crystals, and a few good men perished to the onslaught of the elements.

It felt as if the waters themselves objected to our very venture. But no crashing waves or cascading blankets would dare stop the vessel. With the mighty Prestor upon the wheel, the ship traversed the vast sea, and took us to the our very destination upon some distant lands.

When we left the battered and torn ship, Prestor told me the continent we landed upon was known as Kalimdor, and the desert before us was Tanaris. We had arrived at a small, newly established Goblin port known as Steamwheedle. The goblins that were stationed there were apparently hired by Lord Daval, and were given proper funds to establish a port and what I later found to be a small town known as Gadgetzan.

Short, sand walls were glued together by wooden pillars, forming a barrier for Gadgetzan. The entrance held a massive wooden sign, fitted with an array of shifting and grinding gears. A mighty hammer, pieced together from random fragments of stone, metal, and wood, lifted and flew rhythmically as we entered. A strange entrance, but they are strange creatures.

Sand-domed structures littered the outer edges of the town, and held near the walls themselves. In the center of town was a vacant plot where a large stack of lumber was unorganized and littered. I was told that one day they were going to construct a grand arena there. Goblins, their stature is below anything remotely suiting of grand.

Anyway, after a good night's sleep – good is used mildly here – we took to horses and trotted across the desert. Unfortunately, the dunes were no more hospitable than the curling waters prior.

Storms built of towering sand swept across our pack, tearing and ripping flesh like slivers of glass across paper. Creatures of all sorts -- ogres, basilisks, hounds -- harassed us constantly and mercilessly during the day. At night…distant cries of something unknown tormented our minds, while the moon tortured solely me.

We had set out from Gadgetzan with fifteen strong men. When we arrived at a small base camp, far to the south, there were four, of which included my men, Prestor, and myself.

Now we stand outside a small, calm mountain range that lines the ocean. Light brown peaks jut gently into the bright blue skies. Few clouds blot the heavens, revealing a prefect day. Well, almost perfect, ignoring this unbelievably sweltering heat. No king should have to stand for such unbearable conditions, but a king must do.

We trot slowly towards a ruin sight nestled within the curvy mountain walls. Four, tall pillars tower before a pair of massive, wooden doors. Thick, mighty planks form the bulk of the blocker, while metal borders the outer edges. They are slightly ajar, allowing for numerous figures to move in and out of the strange structure.

Suddenly, a sandy pocket of air slaps the side of my face, and I find myself disgruntled – more so than minutes ago. Anger feeds the bulk of my weary, overwhelmed body. Rage fuels where lacking energy cannot suffice.

I grind a fine granule of sand between my teeth before I grumpily speak, "What is this, Prestor?"

We trot for a few seconds before he finally replies, "This here is a fortress lost in time. A grand palace built for a figure forgotten tens of thousands of years ago."

He pauses briefly to look at me, "And home to that which can heal the greatest of wounds, sinister of grievances, and remove the must malicious of curses. Its Uldum."

My lips curl as he emits the final part of his statement, "So, what is in there? A second Well of Eternity? A fountain of youth…women!?"

Prestor chuckles and whips his reins, "No, my King, something beyond description, yet worthy of a thousand words. You shall see, be patient."

We pass the first row of double pillars. Dark brown stains tint the gray stones, creating a rather disgusting combination of earthen colors. Their edges are smooth, round, and run a good distance above us. At the top rests a square base, which is dirtied by pockets of sand and dust.

So much sand…

I lick my lips before spitting sand from my mouth, "Patience is not one of my finest aspects, Prestor." I wipe more sand from my face as we pass the second row of columns, "Actually, I do believe I traded patience for power, Lord."

He turns and chuckles again, "We all have, King, but this one time…you will have to enjoy a brief moment of humility."

I grunt, and pull back on my reins to stop. Before us rests a short staircase that leads to the parted double-doors. Sand covers and blankets the vast of the steps, creating more of a ramp than an actual staircase.

The doors, however, stand separate from the surroundings. No grains seem to have attached the massive, towering blockers. Rather odd. Everything else seems to be enveloped by the dust, except for these. Oh well, unless these things are going to cure me, I couldn't care less.

"Come," Prestor leaps from his horse, and makes up the steps, "No more time to squander! The moment is at hand!"

At unbelievable speed, the man darts up the case, and hurries to the doors. I quickly head to the frames, but a cold, ominous wind slaps against my face. Slowing, I make it to the top of the steps, and look down the dark, long corridor. Again a chilling, spine-tingling cold grasps my body.

I stop briefly to throw my arm rearward, and I speak without looking, "Gin, Kowl, stay here. I sense something misplaced within these halls."

"Yes, my Lord." Captain Kowl weakly replies.

Fools, the only thing misplaced about these halls is that I am not within them! They dare not share in the grandeur of whatever waits. No…they shall not bath in any of the proceeding moments.

I sigh and step forward. Another blast of air envelops me. Inside, rest rows of wooden platforms -- catwalks, even. Candles litter the sides of the hall, and bring unjust light to the surroundings. Air heaves heavily into my massive, grand lungs. Air escapes my quivering, mighty lips.

After a moment of hesitation, I enter the darkness. Light dances playfully across the walls, as candles burn painfully. Tall, stone figures elevate up the high walls, their faces stern and emotionless. They are carved into grooves, strange pockets that seem to coddle their very forms. They fill the room with a sense of unnerving discomfort.

Smaller statues are constructed near the knees of the larger scale sculptures, some of which are being studied and dusted by various workers of Prestor. Their eyes are nothing more than hollowed carvings in their faces, but yet, I can feel them piercingly. It is as if they call to me…tell me to flee. But no man, let alone some puny statue, tells Greymane what to do.

Nothing commands Greymane…

"Greymane!" Prestor stands at the bottom of the sloping corridor. "Hurry up!"

Heavy light washes the bottom of the steps, but dances unnaturally as if to escape out the passage. Rows up rows of statues pass by me. _Leave this place_. That is what they call to me. What they demand of me. But I will not…no…

A drum pounds the inner workings of my chest. Muscles tense, while blood fills veins to bursting. Acid burns across the surface of my tendons. Rage and frustration dims to nothingness as I come to the end of the path, letting the bright glow wash over me.

Before me, rests a vast, nearly empty room. Light radiates from the center of the space, where a multitude of candles are placed. Illumination dusts the corners and walls, revealing numerous more statues. Workers conduct their duties diligently as their master shuffles towards the core of the room.

Ahead of him, of us, are dozens of tall candles that are braced upon elevated, wooden holders. They form a rather awkward circle around what appears to be a tall, golden figure. It stands upon a tan base, where unintelligible words linger upon the platform's dusty front.

My eyes scan the construct, following the legs upward to a mighty, bulky chest. Golden leather is crafted perfectly upon the manly figure, bracing his chest, shoulders, and head with amazing detail. Strangely, chains run from his arms, upwards into the ceiling, as well as from his feet and to the floor. Odd, I wonder what they are for?

Prestor continues forward, slowing slightly as he nears the figure before him. I reluctantly step forward. Heavy boots slap the firm, oddly smooth stone below me. Another step, followed by another slapping stomp.

As I move, a strange burning sensation creeps across my left bosom. I ignore it, letting my body continue its trek onward. However, with each step taken, the uncomfortable churning becomes a disconcerting grasp of molten agony.

My hand slips upon my jacket. It is there where I can feel a pocket of heat building. Heated fumes trickle past the leathery covering, revealing a deeper source of the problem. Promptly, I throw my hand under the coat and grab hold of a scorching package.

Painfully, I whip my hand out, the core of the item glowing beneath the wrapping like a bright, crackling ember. I am forced to stop. Surges of heated agony clutch my raw nerves. I will not falter to mere fiery elements! No, King…

Son of a…

Finally, I spin my palm, letting the object float downward. I stumble backwards as waving pulses of pain grip my entire arm. Even the leather braced upon my flesh did not slow the spread of that warmth…

"You fool!"

My eyes quickly sweep the room before darting downwards. Standing feet from me is Prestor. He leans forward, arm extended outwards towards me. But he is not focusing on me. No, in his mangled, closed paw is a brightly glowing item. Beneath it is a small crack portion of the floor, where a tiny amount of exposed dirt lies.

"This mustn't be dirtied by the elements!" Swiftly, he pulls upright; bearing the unbearable comfortably in his clutching mitt, "Make yourself useless, Greymane." His eyes gaze upon object as if it is a wondrous, bare woman, "The time is at hand…"

The man spins from me, reaching his free arm inward simultaneously. His arms work feverishly in front of him, ripping cloth from the charcoal. Suddenly he stops, jerking his arm outwards, allowing me sight of the brightly shining, gold chunk. His bare flesh holds upon what I thought to be solidified fire…

A sinister smile stretches the vast of his face. For a second he stands there, admiring what is no more than an insignificant portion of his vast wealth. I have never seen that look on him before. I get the feeling something is amidst here…

"Finally…" he begins cackling to himself, "Finally!"

Folds of clothing cling to his twisting form. Pockets of old dust part as he drags towards the looming, slowly darkening figure. Flames jerk violently outwards, departing from their once playful attitude. Prestor comes to the base of the statue, where he grasps the fragment with both hands, lifting it above his head.

"After years of careful planning, of perfect plotting, and flawless scheming, I have the element so desired!"

His arms jerk forcefully upwards, "An item constructed by the Aspects, now left for useless treasure, it is yours!"

The object glows brighter, "The last piece of what haunts me shall be the first stone for your ascension!"

The workers in the room cease all activity, turning to the deranged man before me. I do not have any idea what he is speaking of. I get the feeling that they do not either.

Suddenly, he throws his head to one side and then the other, "Come, minions, gather upon me!"

Without the slightest bit of fight, the workers scurry to the center of the room. As they near, the object glows brighter and brighter. Something is not right. This king has a sense for the misplaced, and this…doesn't even require use of said ability.

"With one last sacrifice, I charge the core of the mighty, fuel the source of the powerful, and bring light to an item long lost upon the annuals of time!"

A bright, nerve-piercing glow radiates painfully from his hands.

"Feed the last fragment of the Demon Soul! Fuel the Dragon Soul, one last time!"

An explosion cones from the heart of the figure. Swirling, red winds waft from Prestor, spreading outwards in a spiraling, circular motion. The waves wash across the workers, consuming their bodies as it moves. The sight that follows assaults my very will…

Their bodies are turned to ash, devoured by the encompassing rays of magic. In a flash, a blur of a horrifying moment, the lashing winds rip the men asunder, drawing their entire source into the very air. Then, as quickly as it occurred, it ends, all the energies draw back to the figure, but travel to the lifeless golden statue.

Gentle, ruby breezes climb the elevated limbs of the figurine, clinging to every inch of available surface area. I feel myself step back uncontrollably. What was that?! What did he just do?!

A deep, raspy chuckle booms from Prestor as he arms lower, "I give to you, my master, the last of my power!"

Master?! He is Prestor! He has no master…

My mouth slips open, confused rage fueling my foolish tongue, "Prestor, what is happening? What did you just do?"

Half of his face is made visible. Red flames trickle from his eyes, dancing across the darkened air. A dark, malicious expression creeps across his face as his arm sweeps outwards, letting loose the small, dim piece of gold. Reluctantly, I extend my arms, catching the object mid-flight. It rests in my hands, cold to the touch.

"It serves no purpose now." He looks forward, "Take it. Let it fuse memories of what you are no little player!"

His arms lift upwards, as if he is a paying worship to the red-tinted figure, "Master, rise! Let the powers of the Dragon's break your bonds!"

As if commanded, the swirling masses of blood colored winds slam into the golden figure. They vanish, absorbed into glinting flesh of the man. Once gone, a deep, chilling silence fills the void of space.

None of this is right…none!

Candles whip in frenzy. Winds circle the outer edges of the room, spiraling around unnaturally and ominously. Fluids within my stomach churn. Long, dull chains rattle and stir. I watch in a state of horror as one of the links begins glowing, changing hue before my very eyes.

The chains that I once thought useless…glow brightly…

One chain whips wildly from its left arm; a bright white color now taints its surface. The one from his right is enveloped by a fiery ember, a red tint. A deep-sea blue glares from the third attached to his right leg. The last chain of the statue slaps against the base, tearing stone as a gentle teal glow burns from each circular link.

Each chain contorts to a bright color…as gold pieces flecks from the eyes.

Beneath each torn lid, beneath each peering, sinister eye, is a sickening, twisting plume of wafting fire. But these are not fires born from the elements. No, only the lemmings of darker tidings dare give these flames their form…

Pitch-black pillars of flame burn from the golden figure's sockets. As they do, I can feel the muscle within my chest begin to palpitate – not of rage, but of something worse. Ice clings to my spinal column, bringing the sense of fear to this strong man's body.

Suddenly, chunks of gold shatter from the shoulder sockets, clouds of black lashing from each exposed wound. The man's arms descend, gold flaking away with each fleeting second. Joints at the hips chip and turn to the gaseous mixture of terrifying black.

It is then, upon the smoking ruin of a something more than a mere man, that an inhuman cackle rains upon my air, shattering all dignity I once wore.

"So long was I imprisoned within inglorious confines…" Bursts of enraged fires erupt from the form as the deep, dark voice tears at my sanity, "So long have the fallacies of blind masters given me infinite solidarity!"

The figure lurches backwards, its flaming pillars intensifying as does his voice...

"After so long, I can taste the beginning…the end…and all means encompassing the void between them both!" Deep, thundering explosions lift from his mangled voice, a chuckling constructed by death itself, "Be gone, shell of earthen monsters!"

Gold glows, cracks, and screeches.

The plating explodes outwards. My arms lift, shielding my delicate eyes and senses from the barrage of sundered metal. An unsettling breeze slaps all edges of my body, forcing a horrific sense of nausea fill me. I do not look. Keep your eyes shielded. It is all a bad dream!

But even I…cannot bare ignorance of the most horrific of happenings…

Foolishly, I feel my limbs separate. I barely notice myself come upright as fear crushes all senses, numbs all feeling. I cannot believe what I am beholding. It cannot be real…it is a bad dream!

A giant, malformed figure stands upon the blackened platform. It bears the form of a man, but is constructed of a black shell of flaming iniquity. Each pour of the figure secretes a trail of fire. He is twice the height of any man, but multitudes more deranged than the prisoners of any ward, or lowly village.

And from him, a fog of darkness settles in, tainting the air with a darkened hue. However, the candles burn brighter, fueled by the dark demon before us. Their flames dance beyond normal elevations, bending to a will not their own. They illuminate the demon…so that all may see…

It is death…

Its head tilts downwards, wafts of tormented fire whipping from the back of his gaseous skull as it moves. Two blotches, carvings of charcoal, burn a shade darker -- if such an absence of light does so exist. They are the sight to a demonic giant. They are…its eyes…

It whips its arms, causing the different colored chains to whip upon their very bases.

"Curse these relentless shackles!" It releases rhythmic bursts of booming thunder. It is...laughing. "It would seem my captor's trust was naught, even their own strength was unworthy!"

Prestor falls to a knee, bracing his disgrace admirably, "Forgive me, master, I have failed."

Again the beast rumbles, breaking the winds with his malicious, diabolic chuckle, "Do not proclaim failure so soon, minion!"

One arm extends, fingers flicking above the man. Charcoal tainted embers break from each bulky finger, raining diabolic ash down to the floor below.

"Your duties are required still, soldier." Suddenly, a wall of shadowy clouds builds at Prestor's feet, slowing ascending the man. "And one so fitting, must be granted power equal."

A bath of shadows envelops the man. Spiraling pustules, bursting with frenzied darkness, wrap around Prestor, breaking him from all sight. This cannot be real…

No, no, it must be a lie. All of it is a dream! Yes, a terrible, terrible dream. You must escape! I cannot escape. But I must! Signs of hysteria become relevant as I twitch violently.

But I am no spectacle of importance within these halls. Both figures ahead ignore my actions, continuing with their own accord.

I take step backwards. Unfortunately, I stumble over the unseen, forcing me to falter upon my feet. I am able to catch myself, and I spin to see what tripped me. A small hole, a crack broken into the floor, reveals itself as the culprit.

My eyes shift to the fragment in my hand. Slowly, I look to the hole. Back to the fragment. I cannot hold this. Its evil seeps into my very essence. With each passing second, it rattles my being, driving my mind in the brink of sanity!

I must be rid of it!

My eyes lock back to the crevice. There, it must be dirtied! Like Prestor said not to, that is the only way to destroy such a malicious creation! Evil must be hidden amongst the dirt! Time will hide it! Yes, yes, hide it from my mind!

Be gone! Leave me alone! Let my sanity live!

I flick my wrist, hurling the tiny stone at downwards. It bounces once, twice, and skids to the edge of the tiny crack, resting briefly before falling forward. A dull thud rings from the tiny object. But nothing happens. You are losing your mind, Greymane! You are better than this! Stay strong!

Then, as if to break what I reconstructed, a hand, built of quaking sand, rips upwards from the small crack. Caught in its grasp is the tiny, dimly glowing piece of gold. It hovers there briefly before shooting downward, vanishing into nothingness. What was that?!

A flash forces a convulsion within my body. All muscles twitch and quake as a deep, terrifying call booms for me.

"No…NO!" My eyes foolishly shift forward…

The figure stands, flames no longer flowing from his extended arm. Piercing rage punctures my soul; crushing what little will power I had left. Tears build at the borders of my eyes, fear driving me to feminine qualities! Its eyes…they burn my very essence…stop!

Stop!

As I gawk at the being, I notice movement upon one of its arms. Tendrils of white energies travel slowly down the monster's wrist. Raging, ruby flames gently consume the other arm. Brackish blue envelops one leg; while nature's glorious green engulfs the other…

Prestor spins in his spot, examining his master's form as well as his own, "Master…the wounds, they still persist!" He pauses briefly before violently twitching, "GREYMANE!"

Instantly, he spins. Dark, molten lava erupts from his pupils. Rivulets of red run his body, its glow burning through his heavy robes. He glares at me, as if setting me ablaze with his very eyes…

"Where is the Demon Soul?" He shifts angrily across the room, his destination meant for me, "Where is it?!"

Legs begin to quake. The world shakes violently, but I do not know if it is from the planet itself, or of my own cowardice.

"WHERE, GREYMANE?!"

Foolishly, I break; my eyes dart downwards, revealing the source of my actions. Prestor stops all movement, except for the expression of horror that consumes his face. He shakes weakly, starring awkwardly at the tiny hall at the floor.

He doesn't say a word, but his eyes shift upwards, locking with something stirring from behind me. I do not dare move…

Footsteps radiate from my side, forcing me to spin. There, standing before me like a sinister nightmare, built for my very own horrifying visage, is a solid tan…statue. It climbs forward, cracking the stone as it shakes. Green eyes glow as it moves forward.

It stops suddenly, bracing its body as if brought to shock.

"Constructs of the Titans! Earthen soldiers, the beast has been set loose!" He moves forward, bits of stone breaking from his body, "Rise, stop the monster! It must be not released!"

Then…it stomps its heavy foot onto the stone. And with that, the world begins to rattle, the walls of the tomb quaking and writhing in a violent frenzy. Stone crumbles from the walls. Statues shake at their very foundations…but do not stop there…

Giant, stony limbs rip from their once stationary position. Glowing eyes direct forward, locking with the blackened giant before them. All of the once lifeless figures take forward, life feeding their veins…

This…this is not real…

"Master!" Spiraling fire whips outwards, shredding a small tan statue, "What is this?!"

I step backwards.

"Impossible!" The inhuman demon bellows…

Another step.

"I will not be stopped now!!"

I spin…fear all I know.

"This is impossible!" The beast bellows loudly, "Who could have alerted them?! Who dares possess such power!!?"

Run! He knows it was you! RUN!

Heavy feet, bearing equally as weighted boots, slap the ramp. Strong legs guide a weak figure up the incline. A stone figure whips past me, but I do not slow. Another sweeps past, breaking upon my shoulder.

I twist, eyes glaring back down the tunnel.

None of it…real…

Scorching, red fire barrels from thrashing limbs of a man I no longer know. Blackened flames vaporize lumbering stone giants. But the statues are overwhelming, surrounding them both.

One figure reaches at the monster, gripping one of the aerial chains. A small figure rushes forward, grasping the whipping jade link. The monster's flames break from the edges of the room as he the giants latch to the shackles. Gold slowly returns to his surface.

His gaze directs back to me, all hatred returning.

Prestor, however, speaks, "Master, the mortal has betrayed us! He gave the demon soul to your very captors!"

A horrible, churning senstation erupts from him as the demon utters the next words…

"Stop him! The mortal must not escape!" He pauses, an arm whipping forward, a lone, pulsing, cloudy finger extended towards me, "Stop him, Deathwing!"

DEATHWING?! Dragon of Destruction?! Aspect of the Black Dragonflight! No no no! It is Daval…it is my friend…I am fool!

Run, you fool! Run!

No, no, no!

Get out, Greymane! Abandon all thoughts of your once glorious pride. Run, you coward, run!

The entirety of this world blurs as I turn from them. Legs guide me naturally, as if fleeing is all they know. I stumble, but my arms lash forward, fingers cracking and bleeding as they instinctively tear into the stone.

My body crashes against giants. They rush downwards, hoping to end what I began. But I traverse upwards, hoping the heavenly light will be my savior! Thundering roars of a beast unseen, echo sinisterly upon these narrow halls.

The light grows brighter, yet seems to dim as I move. It is then, a sight untimely and unbelievable, that I notice what is happening…the doors are closing…

They mustn't close them! Faster, Greymane, faster!

Only a short distance left!

Light fleeting fast

Almost!

Footsteps level, sounds of crunching sand sing to me, playing a melody that dwarfs the squeals of a thousand gorgeous women. Double doors screech wildly as lively statues close the doors. Fortunately, I rush past them.

My heavy feet slush through mounds of marvelous sand. Tiny dunes crumble to my weight, but I do not care! I am free, and the horrific monsters are trapped…

_BRURSH_

A mighty explosion shakes the world. I twist, catching sight of a fiery pustule bursting through the center of the locked doors. Wood splinters, shooting every direction. A small fiery hole is visible from here. As well is a black, lurking figure.

Fire carves the veins of the beast. Tattered robes hold the form of a man, but are sundered by a pair of massive, outstretched wings. Trails of twisting lava burns upon the leathery fabric connecting the spiny, ashy bones. They are the extended limbs of a being above mortality. They are limbs of a beast thought lost. Giant, fiery...wings...protruding from his back.

Prestor truly is…

Deathwing…

Muscles tense. Heart beat intensifies. Fear returns. Impossible...

Run! You idiot, run!

Again I spin, but I find myself pitted against a sight beyond Deathwing's visage. A painful force grapples upon my throat, crushing all elongated piping. Fingers built of sand tear at my flesh, each gain digging into my skin…

The dragon was a distraction to…it…

A man, constructed of the sandy dunes themselves, lifts me with ease. I do not know how he got here, or how is constructed of the very sand beneath me…but the demon has me…

Surges of pain radiate from all inches. All senses are dimmed as agony creeps across my body. My eyes float from the quaking figure long enough to watch my two, trusty companions ride into the distance.

Who would blame them…?

"MORTAL!" Feebly, I gaze to it, "You have only delayed the inevitable!"

Force tightens, and the world fades slightly.

"Death would be too kind, King Greymane!" My body shakes violently, "I hasten that which brings you fear! I quicken the spread of the curse flowing within your veins!"

No! Not that! You were to cure me! To free me!

"May all your people bear the same ignorance, foolishness, and agony such as you! May the howls of the wolves become familiar amongst your lands!"

NO!

"Curse upon you, King Greymane! Curse upon your people!"

I try to speak, but the grainy fingers crush all my strength. They bring me to weakness…I was supposed to released from my prison constructed of fear…not this…anything but this…

Again he shakes me, "Curse upon all of Gilneas! Worgen blood shall feed all those that follow your name! But your curse shall bear upon your all thoughts of sanity and of humanity, so that all of Gilneas may bath in the hatred for that of what they have become!"

One last time, he rattles my being. It is then I feel my back slam into soft sand. Air seeps back into my throat, but is slowed by crumbling walls of a crushed windpipe. My head rocks side to side, as a weak, airy darkness creeps upon the borders of my vision.

I catch sight of a sinking man of sand. Its legs fade into the folds of this tan sea, followed quickly by its chest. But as it vanishes, its faceless head twists, locking upon its only follower…

"Deathwing! They have confined me, but the weakness of their shackles has been revealed!" His shoulders fade, "Bring me the essences of the lieutenants! Bring me them all!"

Finally, his head begins to diminish to nothingness, but not before it peers back to me, spinning grains whipping in a clockwise fashion.

"When the world breaks, seas boil, winds howl, and fires destroy, my return is near!" The top of the head is all that remains, "With the cataclysm of this planet, I come!"

Gone, bringing with him a quickly growing darkness, and a terrifying omen…

Slowly, I begin to fall into unconsciousness, but not before Deathwing proclaims….

"Do not worry, Greymane, I shall eagerly return you to your people. As a hero." He chuckles, a deep, inhuman rumble. "And I shall heal my wounds, just as your curse becomes your whole."

A smirk spans his face, "Greymane the Great. Ha! In due time, the world shall see. In due time…"

It then continues, the laughter, breaking my body, mind, and soul. And with it, I fall into darkness, the sound of cackling terror guiding me to an unnatural slumber with every rhythmic pulse.

But before I lose all thought and living presence, a phrase, that I know will haunt me every waking moment, creeps into my mind…

What have I done?

* * *

**_Four months later._**

* * *

"Lord?" Kowl stands beside me, "Sir, are you certain this is what you want?"

My eyes peer forward apathetically, locking upon the massive walls and equally as grand gates.

"Yes, Captain, I do believe it is time."

I march forward, stopping yards from the towering gate. Blocks of gray and white mingle, forming a magnificent construct started months ago. It is the wall I designed, and commanded into existence long before…the event. A marvel that signifies not only this kingdom's strength, but also its tenacity. A grand defense built to equal my mighty, offensive army.

But now, it is something more…

I turn, facing the legion of my loyal people.

"Today, denizens of Gilneas, I give to you the final glory to this marvelous Kingdom." My arms lift, daring to encompass all the length of this barrier, "I give to you, the Greymane Wall!"

Uproar of thundering cheers rains from the multitude of citizens before me. Each person throws their arms into the air; reaching for the piece of the heavens I so eagerly promised them. Each person howlers wildly, enjoying the grandeur I declared this populace to be part of and the glory they all construct. Each person, blind…

I turn my head, throwing a nod to the Captain. He, in turn, looks upwards, and throws a head bob of his own to the men amongst the gates. Seconds later, a loud, metallic screeching noise echoes across the land.

Sparks rain from behind as the huge steal spikes split downward. A mighty crash shakes the ground as only something bearing my name even dare do. It is then, the Greymane wall is sealed, locked to hold back all foreigners.

"With this mighty act, I do declare Gilneas the mightiest of Kingdoms, worthy of solidarity, and inner growth! Above the foul taint of Lorderon, or any land beyond!"

Cheers boom again, "For Gilneas!"

A tide of joyous clambering grows. The peasants, citizens, nobles, and all royalty stand before me, partaking in this supposedly splendid marvel. The entirety of my Kingdom cries to me, regardless of their presence here or not.

They cry, but the tears they should be bestowing are lost in their ignorance…

Let them think what they want; let them assume my arrogance has brought about this moment, brought about this separation of this Kingdom from the rest of the world. Let them assume I sealed this gate to bring protection to my people, and to hide from the faults of the rest.

But they are all cursed…they need protection from me, but it is too late. Every last one of them, every last woman a child, takes part of my weakness. I guess in the end, the beast removed my fear. I will be the greatest of all my people…even when the thick hair consumes my flesh, and all noticeable forms of humanity become blurred….

Maybe…but I do not dare tell them…I can only lie…in word and of construct…

This barrier is a fallacy, a blocker to the truth. It was sealed not to protect my people…but to protect those from what I have done. Of course, I might still have to ask myself "What have I done?" But that would be foolish…and this King does not bare those qualities…

Let me think what I want and hide from what I dare not.

Let me pray that time shall forestall the roaring tides of my self-centered actions, indefinitely.

Let me pray and hope…that the rising tides never come, and this world never churns…

Let me fear…the edge of entropy…and…the omen of the…

…Cataclysm.


	3. Chapter 1: Visions

"_We are all outcasts in this world. And, to hide this fact, we call wherever we feel safe, 'home'. But some are never safe, never at home. Those few have nothing but the voices in their heads, and the roar of terrifying silence as our own. In the end, they, we, are outcasts of the outcasts…"_

_Torseg the Exiled, overheard as the Giant rambled to himself upon the frozen tundra of Storm Peaks._

_

* * *

_

**One year ago, Arthas, the Lich King, was felled by the most unlikely of hands. **

**Denizens of Azeroth rejoiced taking in the glorious event with those they love most. Such excitement swept the lands; sons were greeted by fathers, daughters reunited with mothers, friends celebrated with friends, lovers reconnected, and enemies…embraced enemies.**

**For a few fleeting months, the Alliance and Horde factions locked arms, joining together to share strength, wisdom, and marvelous tales.**

**Both sides found themselves bursting with newfound knowledge, giving rise to new heroes, and bolstering old champions already grand sway. However, amongst the praise and triumphant calls of victory, many found themselves lost in the modern world.**

**And others…found themselves unwelcome…**

**A man known as Saylem MacKarthy began preaching within the canals of Stormwind about sinister corruptions and malicious dealings. His word would soon spread across the globe, planting seeds of a "Scourgeless" world into the minds of masses. As the tales permeated deeper, sinking into the thoughts of the ignorant, a new fear was born. **

**And with the fear, came violence…**

**During the week of Darion Mograine's return to Stormwind, a wild fire of horror consumed the city, driving the world to the brink. And upon the teetering edge, the first stone was thrown…**

**Upon the night to be known as Death's Demise, thousands of radical militants stormed the streets, breaking into abodes of those thought corrupt. All those known as Death Knights, powerful individuals freed of the Lich King's sway, were to be slaughtered.**

**Many Knights were murdered in their very beds, holding the ones they love in their last moments, weeks after their peaceful, heroic return. Many more were hung as ghastly decorations across buildings, signs of peace's end. A great fire purged across Stormwind as MacKarthy himself led the onslaught against Darion Mograine, who was held within the halls of the city's keep.**

**As the mob neared the keep, the great Death Knight, Darion Mograine, tore a dark portal asunder, allowing escape from all his men and all those wishing sanctuary. And though the mighty leader was not captured nor harmed, the damage had been done.**

**Riots enveloped all major cities, and those once welcomed, found themselves fleeing to the wastes of the world; finding safety where only the forgotten found refuge. Now, Darion, and all the Ebon Knights, find themselves trapped in the Eastern Plaguelands, destined to wander the world, devoid of all those they love and of purpose.**

**But they are not alone…**

**The remaining members of the Argent Crusade, led by the rather unseemly Carlin Redpath, found themselves uniting with the Ebon Blade once again. They joined together in hopes of destroying a new taint, a new rise of Scourge. The combined might of holy Paladins and unholy Death Knights push to end the new growing Scourge menace.**

**The Ashen Verdict, as the two united faction are called, fight a forgotten series of unseen battles, upon the forgotten wastes, for a population that has forgotten them all. Upon the Eastern Plaguelands, the ones known as the **_**Lost**_** wage war. And it is there where our hero, a man jaded by tall tales, calls home.**

**It is there, upon the dead fields, one man, all his grand accomplishments lost, does what no one else does. Our hero carries out the duties of the foolish, or of the courageous. Our hero does so by himself, but is never alone. Our hero struggles an internal war while burying the external. Our hero, Hope Blackwood…is the …Gravedigger…**

**

* * *

**

_**O****ne year after the fall of Arthas**…_

_

* * *

_

_You are doing it wrong!_

You need to shut up!

_You need to push at an angle! You know the soil is thick and rocky here!_

How would you know? You are a voice in my head! You haven't had your own set of arms for years!

_You had to go there? You know that is a touchy subject!_

Bah, you know I didn't mean anything by it.

_You still said it._

I know…I know…but it has just been different…

_You know that I know…_

It is so strange without him. It has been so strange without him. I really do miss the second voice in my head. Well, if you count me, Hope's voice, then that voice should have been the third…

_You do know how crazy you seem, right? You are thinking about how you miss a third entity in your mind…while you think a conversation with your amazing, still existing, other voice…_

Let's just say, I wouldn't try explaining that to someone I just met, out loud.

_You know that would be good conversation starter._

Yeah, it…hey! Stop distracting me!

_You know you like it._

Bah, there it goes again. Making me forget what I was trying to do. Wait…what was I trying to do?

_You were digging a hole. You were attempting to descend into a six-by-six, earthen room_.

Right!

I shift my sight down. Rows of dry, dead grass run unorganized patterns beneath my feet. Tiny piles of cracked, dark-brown dirt litter the edges of a small, barely started, hole. Disgusting, pink strands wriggle across the top of the soil. Worms…

Suddenly, a small figure appears from the right side of my vision. Two, tiny, orange and yellow legs hold an equally as miniature, plump torso. Long, gangly arms aim forward, brown claws extended excitedly.

Its entire little body vibrates, while its rather un-proportionally large head slowly draws to the ground. Large, black horns jut from the top of its skull, leading back to a set of adorably, gigantic eyes.

The tiny creature jiggles in its spot briefly before lowering itself into an attack position. Then, without warning, the hunter jumps forward, teeth and claws at the ready. Oh, the battle! Oh, the carnage!

Dirt floats upon the violent air. Slithering villains dare attempt to flee into the mounds of rolling, black meadows. Gnashing teeth bite and chomp ferociously, dragging pink strands to their horrific death.

I cannot help but smile as I watch my little hatchling attacking the hole. She fills her little mouth with as many worms as one possibly can, but she does not stop there! Oh, no, she must stuff her mouth, so that she cannot even breathe.

Actually, she is helping me as well. Her tiny claws are ripping apart dirt like tiny shovels! She thrashes wildly before plunging her face into the mound; mouth still riddled with dozens of struggling bugs.

_CRRACK_

The tiny beast jerks up abruptly, a large, gray object lodged in her mouth. Her eyes widen briefly. Confusion sweeps the tiny monster's face as it attempts to decipher why a rock is stuck in her mouth.

Uncontrollably, I laugh at the sight of dangling bugs, rock, and sundered jaw. The tiny warrior jerks its sight towards me and begins vibrating excitedly again. Its large, cute eyes lock with mine before she opens her mouth to limits unimaginable and chirps. Chirps…loudly…

Ejecting from her mouth, comes the large, partially gnawed rock, and an array of chewed bug guts. All of it lands squarely on my foot. Great. She loses focus on me, and diverts back to her flying lunch. Without hesitation, the little menace leaps from the hole, darts to my foot, and…

Ouch!

She latches to the leathery top of my foot, tiny teeth breaking the surface just barely. Next come her tiny claws. They scratch the surface of my aged footwear and kind of tickle.

Carefully, I draw my foot back in attempts to dislodge it from her rather directed snout, but…she is latched well. I give her a gentle shake, but she is determined. It would seem that she has grown comfortable where she is, and I know what that means.

The shoe…will be hers…

I sigh, squat, and gaze down at the baby raptor. Her eyes dart up to mine before she begins vibrating again. Her tiny tail wags, telling me to simply give her my foot and all will be better. A smile sweeps my face, but I don't think I will be functional with only one foot.

Gently, I reach out, wrap my fingers around her tiny torso, and tug. See, she…no, no…she is still latched. Will you let go? I give her another tug, but…come on! Let go of my foot!

_You need to be a man! You need to show her who's boss!_

Now, I hold her body mid-air. Her tiny claws thrash at the air, while adorable legs flail aimlessly. Alas, her head still aims downward, latched firmly upon the top layer of my shoe.

"Squeals, we both know how this will end." I give her a gentle shake, "Give me the shoe, and we can discuss a plea bargain."

Her body shakes happily.

"How about…I will rub your belly, and you give me back my shoe and not bite me for a few days?"

Oddly, her body stops. Her eyes dart to my foot then back to me. Back to my foot. Back to me. She is thinking. I know Carlin told me these raptors are smart, but I definitely have to give this creature credit. I am pretty sure it is smarter than most humans…

"What do you say? That a deal?"

Finally, she snorts a puff of hot air at my foot before releasing me from her tenacious grip. A short, pinkish tongue flops from her mouth as she begins panting and shaking again. Quickly, I pull myself to my feet, dragging her to chest level as I come to a full, upright position.

She fidgets in my hand, adjusting herself into a more comfortable position. Her eyes lock with mine, and a cute, cuddly, feeling washes over me. Oh Squeals, you definitely make a good companion. Yes, you may bite me, but you are better than most people. Smarter…and better…

You make me just want to squeeze you! And…you…bring back memories. Great memories of that one day…so long ago.

"You remember that day, Squeals? The day you were given to me?"

She jiggles before chirping softly.

"Yes, yes you do! Jaina handed you to me, a gift from the Kirin Tor after…after…" A strange feeling grasps my chest. "After…Arthas fell…"

Air struggles to draw into my lungs. Not again. Not again! My chest tightens. I try to breath, but it becomes so hard. The world grows lighter, and spins slightly. I am not getting enough oxygen to my head. Yes, that is what Carlin told me…

Breath, Hope, breath. Get more air into your lungs. You cannot pass out again!

_You cannot escape it…_

The world blurs.

_You cannot hide from it…_

A jade hue discolors my vision. Make it stop!

_You cannot…_

Squeals slowly fades from my sight. A dark green corrupts her normal appearance. I hate this! I hate this so much…

The entire world is enveloped by a strange, overwhelming jade tint. It feels as if my eyes are covered in some strange blinder, forced to see the world in this sickening color. Everything has that filthy shade to it.

The grass is no longer tan, but more of a teal. Lively tree trunks glow a dark green, while its blooming leaves are nearly black, but I know better. But is not just the discolored taint that disturbs me…

Everything…is different…

There are no buildings. There are no stone paths. There are only rolling meadows, bright, luscious trees, and beautiful fields. It happens every time that tightening senstation creeps over me.

It is as if I am in another world…a fantasyland created by my own crazy mind. But it feels so real…

I take in a deep, uncomfortable breath. My eyes dart back and forth, taking in the same environment that I have seen too many times before. I take in everything, even my own body. My arms stretch outwards, fingers still curled as if I was holding something…

Squeals!

I never had this happen when I was holding her! No, no, no! I twist wildly, searching the ground around me. The shovel and hole are gone, but that is not important. Did I lose her? Did she get sucked into this abyss with me?!

Adrenaline creeps through my veins. Muscles quake while my mind aches. Air draws in and out rapidly. I just need to stay calm…I just need…

"Squeals!"

There is a loud, booming echo that returns to me. It repeats half a dozen times, diminishing with each pulse. I wait, but there is no reply. Squeals!

Nothing but nature's beauty surrounds me. A thick forest lies to my left, while a brief opening lies to my right. A short distance beyond the break is another thick, dense field of towering trees. But no Squeals…

I search all directions, and scan all aspects of this world, but there is nothing. I begin moving forward, cracking and snapping foliage loudly as I move. One step, more cracking. Another step, more snapping.

I stop…yet…I hear more cracking…

My eyes divert towards my feet, and I can see myself stopped, but…but…the rustling continues. A deep, harsh panic grips my soul. It cannot be…I have been here many times before, and I have always been alone.

The sounds of movement grow. With each passing second, it grows louder. Something is there…something, by the far end of the clearing! A light breaks from overhead, illuminating a portion of the forest and opening. It stretches in a thin line towards me…

A small, light green path builds towards me. It is as if calling to me. Guiding to me…

"Hope…"

It is calling to me! It calls as the the rustling grows louder.

"Hope…"

Suddenly, the forest edge begins to shake. The trees quake gently, the leaves overhead vibrating. Something is there. Something…is approaching…

"Hope…!"

The voice intensifies. It sounds familiar, but…yet, so distant. I lose focus on the call again, returning to the growing movement. Yes, I am certain something is there…

Suddenly, a pair of bright, red orbs appear. They are a short distance apart, and are enveloped by a thick shadow. I cannot make out anything but the piercing orbs. And…I know what they are…

Eyes…

All movement stops. The spheres stay hidden, but I can feel them locked upon me. I am not alone…I am not alone! I need out of here!

_You need to calm down…_

What is it?! I don't care, let me out! Let me out!

"Hope!"

Leave me alone! I just want to go home…

"HOPE!"

Then, without warning, a flash of black blinds me. For a second, there is nothing. There is only the sweet silence, and a cool, rather unnerving tingle of a dead breeze. Dry grass tickles my cheeks, and I instantly know where I am.

Heavy lids slide backwards, allowing in a barrage of disgusting, yet welcoming tan light. I stare forward briefly before turning my head and locking my palms to the soil. I blink a few times before slowly pushing and pulling myself to my knees.

My sight darts to the ground where I see…Squeals! Squeals is right here, safe and sound. Right next to a pair of thick, white…boots…

"Hope, are you alright?" A deep, firm voice booms from an unmistakable man.

My eyes sweep to the side, locking with the bright, plated pants of the figure. Streaks of white and orange mingle in beautiful, curling patterns across the thighs and calves. The same design travels up the bulky chest piece and run to the hulking shoulder pads.

Heavy appearing, folded hunks of metal are placed perfectly upon the broad man's shoulders. The borders of the pads are white, with a reddish-orange fiery design dancing towards the upper portion of the plate. Tiny, well-crafted spikes run up from upper portion of the pads, but they are more than jagged points.

No, the man that wears them told me they are metallic buildings, chimneys, spires, towers, and other edifices of a town. A gentle, yellow glow wafts like an angry fire from the enchanted armor, just above the rather persuasive looking metal city. The word "Darrowshire" is etched below the town on his left, and the word "Northdale" is crafted below the other shoulder.

"Hope? Look at me? Are you all there?"

Instantly, I look up at the man, stopping to gaze at the helmet upon his head. There is only white that rests at the edges of the helmet, and instead of angry, orange and red fires, there are only white tendrils of flames. They run to an array of circular spikes upon his head.

They are actual, curvy, pointed blades. All except…for one. In the middle of the helmet is a tall, box that runs a short distance before coming to a wider, pointy triangle. Just below the spike is a circular that glows a bright yellow. Gentle clouds of white waft from the pattern and climb into the air.

A flat sheet of metal runs down from the circle and comes to an end at the tip of the man's nose. Gently carved into this panel is the word "Hope." It is the Light's Hope Chapel, and it protects the man at all times, as he told me.

It guides him, and blares a beacon for all those lost and in need. But, as symbolic as the man says it is, it is no match to the visible smile that is nearly consumed by the thick, salt-and-pepper beard.

"Hope? Admiring the armor again, are we?"

I sigh, and slowly pull myself to my feet.

"Yes. Sorry, I just cannot get over the detail Archmage Rhonin put into it."

He chuckles, "Yes, Rhonin and the rest of the Kirin Tor took their time in crafting this fine-quality attire." He adjusts his shoulder, "Light as a feather, too."

Pieces of metal jingle as he moves, and, sadly, I find myself distracted again. This time my eyes lock with his arms. The same designs run through the forearms and glide to the hands. It is there, within the grasp of his fingers that the true source of my wandering is found.

A long, glinting blade extends towards the ground, the tip nearly scratching the source of the soil. The tip comes to a jagged, abrupt ending at the front of the blade. The sharp edge runs to an orange, "L" shaped hand guard. Finally, on the back of the blade…is a floating, gold disc.

It is…the Ashbringer…and Carlin Redpath, leader of the Argent Crusade, wields it…

I stare at the blade a moment longer before speaking, "Still just as it was days ago…"

Carlin's head tilts towards the blade, "Yes, no matter how many enemies fall to this mighty blade, the call of the Light never fades nor is jaded."

He gives the weapon a shake. I glance back to his face and cannot help but smile at that helmet. But it is not truly the item that brings me such joy…but by what it covers…

I smirk, and in return, Carlin frowns.

"What are you so happy about"

Uncontrollably, I feel my mouth open, "Sorry, the glow of the armor is just more distracting than the glint of your bald head."

Hey!

_You needed to say it…_

For a brief second, I feel the dark eyes of an angry man. A piercing stare assaults my being. Look what you did!

Oddly, he tilts his head back and chuckles loudly, "Hope, that was a good one."

He reaches forward with his free hand, giving me a rewarding pat on my shoulder. His fist recoils, and he attempts to wipe tears from his eyes, but we both know how futile that is.

Sadly, his laughter is quickly ended by a stern expression. Again, I feel the booming glare of a serious man. He sighs heavily and shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, Hope, it is not my head that is of focus here." He points at me; "This is the fourth time in a week that you have collapsed suddenly."

A frown forms upon his sorrowed lips, "And they are occurring more frequently."

I nod half-heartedly, "Yes, I have noticed. I have been there when they happen. Well, I am sometimes."

A smile stretches weakly upon his face at my failed attempt at a joke. Sadly, there is no time for humor right now.

"Hope, with the rising concern of a new Scourge threat, with the return of Baron Rivendare and the other Horsemen from the Naxxramas Citadel, I think…"

His eyes dart to the ground before returning to mine, "Hope, it is not safe for you to be here."

Frustration clutches my chest, "Stratholme is surrounded by the Ashen Verdict, and I am nowhere near any of the fighting!"

"I know, Hope, but…what if I am not here to wake you from your narcoleptic slumbers? A zombie could have waddled here and devoured you!"

I make to speak as surge of rage consumes me. Oddly, the roaring flames are vanquished by a strange, numbing barrage of internal waves. His words seem to have struck a nerve within me.

I sigh, and turn my head from him. My eyes walk down the faded, dirt path. They dance upon the same road I have been down a hundred times. They follow across the area where the clearing was, and trail the same route of the light green glow. The glow that came to me earlier. Strangely, it is almost as if I can still feel the hue of the illuminated path. It is almost as if it lures me with each gawking second. It is almost as it beckons me...

It wasn't simply calling to me. It was guiding me…

_Y__ou know what must be done…_

My mouth opens. Air draws into my sundered jaws. I stare forward, silent, for a few more seconds before softly emitting, "You are right…"

"Do not argue…" he pauses briefly, "Excuse me?"

I do not have to look to know the bemused expression that is painted across his face. I do not have to turn to know that he is lost by what I said. That was not the answer he was expecting.

But, of course, it wasn't really the answer I ever thought I would find myself saying again. He is right. I do not fit into this land anymore. I do not fit into the Eastern Plaguelands. I do not fit into the horrors of the Forgotten wastes…

Even in the land of the Forgotten…I am an outcast…

_You know the truth…_

And it is time to leave.


	4. Chapter 2: Shadows

**"**_**Long ago, I unshackled my blind eyes from their strangling tether, allowing me true sight, true vision. It was then when I saw what hides within this world. It was then…I wished I was blind again…"**_

_**Twilight Prophet: Upon witnessing the opening of the gates of Ahn'Qiraj, as found etched upon a Twilight Script.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Heavy armor clanks as the old man fidgets nervously in his spot. His eyes dart within their sockets. Thoughts dance within the confines of his mind. It would definitely seem that he was not expecting me to agree with him.

_You didn't even think you were going to._

Yeah, that certainly was not on today's agenda.

Finally, he sighs, pulling his arm to the side of his head.

"Hope, you do what you are agreeing to, correct?"

I shrug, "Possibly so. Possibly not. Honesty, I do not think I know." My eyes dart to the ground, "But, lets face it," I look back to him, "…when the hell do I have a clue?"

The salt-and-pepper padding upon his chin shifts, exposing moving muscles and a cracking smile.

"You will be leaving the Plaguelands…your home, you know that, right?"

I nod, "Of course, but…"

Once again, my eyes drift to the road behind us. It winds for a good distance before temporally vanishing into a series of vacant, abandoned structures. The town, Corin's Crossing, has been empty for a few weeks now. Ever since the Ashen Verdict captured it, it never regained any populace.

Now it stands alone, as a sign of what this land has truly become…

"Hope? You still with me?"

Dang it. There I go again, completely drifting into my own thoughts. Swiftly, I turn from my distractions, face the now frowning figure. His eyes stare, glazed with a strong sense of concern.

"Yeah, I am still here." I shuffle in my spot, "I was just looking to where I was planning to go."

He smirks, "Really? Because I do believe you simply lost your train of thought again. Fooled me, you did."

A smirk spreads across my face, "You caught me. Of course, I have never been really good at hiding it."

The old man moves forwarding, approaching me slowly with every step.

"Hope, are you really planning to leave? Or are you simply agreeing and planning to return as stubborn and thick-headed as ever?"

As he finishes his statement, his hand lands heavily on my shoulder. I am unable to look him in the eye, so, like usual, my vision wanders to his armor. It moves towards the dancing, metallic flames of vengeance, towards the towers upon his shoulders, towards the spire rising from his helm.

And, uncontrollably, I find my eyes drawing from the top of his head to face…to his eyes…

"Yes, I am going to listen, like a good Hope should."

His fingers grip my shoulders firmly before he gives me a gentle shake. A smile spreads across his face, but I do not believe he is showing the expression out of glee or joy.

You know he is hiding his true emotions.

"Well, Hope Blackwood, if you really planning to leave, then I suggest you gather your things and get ready for the trip."

He releases me, allowing me for an expected, long preparation, but if that man is assuming I tug alone vast amounts of supplies then he obviously doesn't know me.

_You live off the land!_

Quickly, I look to my left, reach down, grab my sack -- with gun attached-- and throw it over my left shoulder. Promptly, I twist, break my shovel from its earthen tomb, sling it over my back, and adjust my shoulders to hold it.

I look to Carlin and smile, "All good to go."

His eyes dart across my body, examining my every inch for signs of faulty gatherings, or visual displays of greater need. Oddly, he smirks, throwing his free hand to his chin.

"Took you long enough, Hope." He chuckles, "Honestly, I thought you just needed the shovel. Ha."

Crazy old man! I shake my head as he cackles sinisterly to himself. He really does think he is funny.

"What? Did you assume that I dig up holes and dine on wriggling worms with Squeals?"

A grand, mighty smile beams from ear to ear. Rows of clever, prepared teeth align for a verbal strike of words. Oh no, I played right into his hands…

"Why else would Nathanos call you, 'Worm?'

"Ah!" I throw my arm forward, jabbing the old man in his plated chest with my fingers, "I knew you were going to say that!"

He chuckles loudly, tilting his head back to intensify the humor. Just as quickly, he throws his head forward, bringing his joyful expression back into plain view. His eyes lock with mine, and again, he throws his hand to my shoulder.

Gently, he pulls me forward until our foreheads smack gently together. He breathes quickly, as if winded by this very moment. He smiles strongly, as if inspired by this very second. He holds firmly, as he has every minute of his life.

"Hope, you take care of yourself, ok?"

His smile fades, forming to the depressing frown that I wish he hadn't shown.

"Yes, sir, I will make sure that I don't talk to strangers, or take candy from undead salesmen. And, most importantly, I will not eat yellow snow."

Thankfully, the smile returns to his face, and with it, he pushes me back, but only to drag me back in for the powerful man-hug. I throw one arm around his back, and he does the same. We pat each other upon our spines a few times before pulling apart and standing awkwardly.

_You just said…man-hug…right?_

"Hope," he shakes me one last time, "I will find you when I finish here. You know that?"

I nod, "I hope so. This place just isn't what it used to be."

He lets go of me, taking a few steps backwards, "Yeah, it does seem that way. The fall of the Lich King brought the end to these lands."

I turn from him slightly and shrug, "Sometimes, the enemy of our waking moments is what holds our reality together."

A shocked expression sweeps Carlin's face, "Woah, Hope, that was profound…where did you learn that from?"

I turn from him completely, aiming for the road ahead. My feet shuffle across the dead grass, crushing strands as they move. My hands grip the edges of my bag, holding it firmly upon my back. Another step, more dead grass. Another, stones beneath my soles.

I turn my head, facing back to the man behind me, "From you, Highlord Redpath. From you."

He nods, turns, and drags himself up upon a horse that I had not even seen before. Was I really distracted that badly?

_You are not alone, I didn't see it nor hear it._

Oh well, the white beast, decorated in matching white armor, holds the aged man to the high standard that he so deserves. Its legs shift as the warrior readjusts his direction, aiming for the road north. He aims for the battle of Stratholme, for the new source of war.

But before he takes off, he turns to me and yells.

"Farewell, Hope! I must go make sure Jessica isn't trying to take the courtyard by herself again!" He pauses briefly, glancing to the tiny raptor upon the gravel path, "Oh, and Squeals, if the fool passes out, make sure to bite him extra hard, ok?"

My eyes drift to the trailing pet behind me. Her body jiggles joyfully before she tilts her head and loudly chirps. She dances playfully in her spot for a second, moving slowly towards the old man.

Carlin laughs, snaps his reigns, and heads off. However, one last time, he shouts to me.

"May we meet again, Master Blackwood, in better times, and reminisce of days long past…"

His voice fades as he moves.

"…Of battles fought hard…."

It dims.

"…Of dreams redeemed."

It is almost a whisper, and he is almost a dot amongst the horizon. But I will not let him end it there. No, I will be the last one to speak here.

"I will much like that, Carlin! And I hold you to it!"

And he is gone, leaving me with thoughts, of memories of Icecrown. What he said to me seconds prior was exactly what I said to Tirion as we drifted from the Dark Citadel a year ago. As we left the paladin alone to battle the Lich King for all time.

And my words…were Tirion's last…

_You done good. You done really good._

I stare aimlessly at the blank horizon. Mounds of dirtied, dead earth roll before me. Battered Scourge structures rest empty, all evil purged from their malicious innards. Maybe I shouldn't go…maybe…

_You must get moving._

Yes, you are right. It is time. And with that, I turn, aim down the road, and let my first leg forward. I move slowly at first, but gradually I gain speed. Stone crunches beneath my feet as I take every step.

From behind, I hear scratching sounds as the little raptor darts after me. She rushes past, stopping a few feet ahead, as usual. Sometimes, I wonder if she thinks I am her pet…

Her head whips back; narrow brows suggest a rather odd focus. I do believe she is glaring at me. She moves a bit faster before abruptly spinning in her tracks, stopping in front of me. The glare continues, followed by an awkward growl.

What in the world?

She emits a random array of sounds, as if she is trying to communicate. There are occasional chirps followed by high-pitched barks and yelps. Yeah, I do believe she is talking to me.

_You think she is better off speaking to Murlocs._

Finally, she snorts, spins, and darts off down the road. She wants me to hurry up. Or she wants me to chase her. Or she is hungry and saw something to eat. All three? I don't know, but no point in arguing.

_You heard the lady!_

My legs quicken the pace. The tiny fiend scurries across the gravel path, accelerating rather quickly. She speeds around a bend, dodging tiny pebbles and leaping over her-sized rocks.

I gain on her slowly, but she is rather hasty for her size. She rounds another bend, leaps over a skull, and darts towards the outskirts of Corin's Crossing. Rapidly I dash after her. A smile stretches across my face as I near the sprinting racer.

She dodges another obstacle. I extend my arms, readying them for the snatch! Buildings appear in my vision as we near the town. Another leap and bound are exerted from the little warrior's legs. The first building passes, and I almost have her!

My hands reach down, but she navigates to the right. You slippery devil, you! I reach again, but she hops to the left. Oh, I see how it is going to be! A third grab, but…I stumble as I try to dodge the suddenly stopped pet.

Woah! Watch it, Squeals!

I trip over her tiny body, attempting not to smash her.

I manage to get my footing after a few harsh seconds of imbalanced movement. Finally, I grip the edges of a building and pull myself to the frame. My head twists to the side, and I angrily glare to the beast below.

Instantly, all aggression subsides as I watch Squeals. She stands at the middle of an intersection, peering bemused down an unseen street. Her head bobs up and down. Tiny arms hang towards the ground. Inquisitive eyes gaze upon the unknown.

Uncontrollably, I release the building, and make towards her. My jaw slips down, but no words emit from my sundered mouth. I take another step. Another, this time tilting my head to gawk in the direction she does.

"Squeals?" The road comes into view, "What are you starring at? Lunch?"

Suddenly, her tiny body shoots towards the ground. Her tail becomes violently erect, while claws extend forward. A deep, low growl wafts in rumbling waves from her enraged lungs.

Without hesitating, I throw my sight down the road. Rows of abandoned, desecrated buildings align haphazardly upon the un-kept road. Slanting roofs tilt towards the path, and aim back to the large graveyard at the edge of the town.

The graveyard I made. The graveyard that I filled. My…graveyard…

And standing amongst it…is a strange, black-robed figure. The dark, heavy cloth clings to the edges of frame, hiding his true figure, yet intensifying it as he kneels upon the soil. Fabric darts back and forth as arms sweep the faces of the gray stones. I make out a thin, purple border sewn perfectly upon the edges of his robe.

Oddly, he jumps to his feet, rushes to another stone, and bends over this time. His hands run across the tombstone, and after a second, he shifts and repeats his movement again.

I take a few steps forward. Silently, I come closer to him, hoping not to disturb his awkward ritual. One, two, three buildings pass as I shift forward. Before I can reach the building closest to him, I hear his voice radiating loudly

"Not him. No, not him. No, no no. Who, who, who?!"

His speech is rapid and a bit bewildering. It sounds as if the man is ranting to himself. The hood whips to the side then twists in the other direction.

"No, not here! Not here! How can it not be here?!"

He jerks upright. His arms whip into the air, forcing his robes to slide down to his elbows. Angrily he throws them back down before violently flinging his foot outward. The toe of his shoe rids forward, smacking against one of the tombs. Slowly, as if brought to sorrow from the transgressions of this man's actions, the stone falls backwards.

"Hey!" I yell, "What do you think you are doing? Stop disgracing those stones, you jerk!"

Instantly the man spins towards me. Shadows conceal his face, but I can feel his eyes through the thick cloth. His arms hang loosely to his sides. Slowly, he twists his body. Calmly, he makes a step towards me.

"I could not find him!"

He yells at me before quickening his pace.

"He was supposed to be here! He is dead, a dead spirit! How is he not here?!"

I try to move backwards, but the figure is quick. He scampers past tombstones and stumbles upon the path.

"The dead rest here! He must be here!"

Rapidly, he hurries in my direction. I attempt to reach for my weapon, but I foolishly flinch. All I can think to do is move rearwards. One, two, three buildings pass me as I shift back to the intersection. One, two, three buildings pass him as he nears me.

"Why can I not find the dead!?"

He reaches out, extending his mangled, dirtied fingers towards me. Surges of pinching pain ripple from the impact spot. Fingertips dig into my leathery armor, almost penetrating to the flesh beneath.

I find myself being pulled forward. Hot, angry breath radiates from the man's mouth. Dull pupils are illuminated from reflections of random light. An unshaven jaw vibrates fearfully at the lower part of his skull.

"Why can I not find…the…dead…"

_You need to make this fool dead!_

His pace of speech slows as he glares at me. Facial features become more apparent as he draws towards me. Quickened breathing is released disgustingly against my flesh. His eyes widen, and his jaw quivers fearfully. It is as if he just had the realization of his life...

_You need to him a second realization with your fist!"_

"You. I have been wrong! Too wrong, for so long."

The raving man throws me backwards. I stumble as he flails violently in his spot. His arms wrap awkwardly around his own body. It is almost as if he is trying to give himself a bear hug. This man has truly lost his mind.

"He must be stopped! Stopped! Stopped!"

One of his hands slips into the sleeve of the other.

"The dead must be stopped! The dead must not bring life!"

The hidden hand reemerges. Metal glistens upon the faded light of this land. Curved metal comes to a deadly edge. Only the blade is visible, but that is more than enough to know what he is planning to do…

"He must be stopped! Stopped!"

Hurriedly, he shoots forward. The armed hand flies outward, the tip of death aligning upon me. Reacting fast, I throw my hands at his. I manage to grip his wrists, throwing the blade to my side, just barely missing my stomach.

His free arm ejects from his body, slamming to my shoulder. My body glides with the force, spinning to my right. I am unable to balance myself, and I feel the tug of gravity pulling at my back.

Hopelessly, I reach forward, trying to grab whatever I can. But there is nothing, nothing but the deranged man, and the cold, harsh air. THUMP. A sharp, unnerving pain travels through the back of my skull.

The entire world spins. The entire world flickers briefly. I hit the ground hard, and I am enjoying the repercussions. My arms and legs go numb. The world continues to spin. It continues to flicker. All reality becomes blurred, all but…the man…

"The dead must stay what it is!"

The blade spins in his hand. Death faces downward, a tip pointed towards the earth. He moves forward, directing his sinister plans squarely upon me. As he moves, the shadows follow him.

He shifts quickly, and, oddly, the dark path that follows him flutters and grows unnaturally. His feet shuffle stones, breaking them from his path, but he cannot break the darkness that pursues him.

Rage pumps through his veins as he towers over me. Blind, crazy anger navigates at my weary form. Insane thoughts plan my demise. But all his expressions and focus are lost…to that which shifts at his feet…

The shadows are moving…as if alive…

The darkened patches crawl across the ground, extending outwards. It must be an illusion. It has to be an illusion. This is all but a bad dream. Yes, soon I will wake up, and I will be sitting next to Carlin, planning for another assault on Stratholme and those within.

But as I watch the growing shadows, I come to realize that the only fallacy is my ignorance.

Horrifically, the shadows grow from the ground, forming gaseous tendrils upon the air. The man prepares to strike, but the darkness reaches him before he can find his limp target upon the ground.

Sheets of airy black spin around the legs of the man. He is stopped in his tracks, and once again, he begins to flail. The man tries to dislodge himself from the gripping grasp of the shadowy claws, but they overwhelm his body.

Hundreds of razor thin, black sheets intertwine between the man's appendages. They dance playfully upon his clothing, touching and teasing him gently. He pats at them violently. In return, they drift upon his hands, forearm, and shoulders.

The shadows climb his chest and reach for his head, coming to form two, thick, strands just at his neck. Terrified eyes stare at the shadows. Clenching muscles lock at his chin. Fear is apparent in every movement, every yelp.

Two, separate clouds for each eye, for each side of his head…for all his anguish to be absorbed…

My heart quickens as two separate sheets mold upon the air. Ten, delicate blotches extend upwards, five on each vine. They shift and mold into two, smooth, feminine like hands; black appendages of something unseen, of something unknown…of something…dark…

Then, to my horror and dismay, a sweet, gentle voice radiates upon the air, death itself whispering upon the invisible air.

"You have lost your mind, Cultist." A sweet, yet disconcerting giggle follows briefly, "Let momma relieve your stress, dear."

In a flash, the two, shadowy hands lurch upwards, latching to the man's skull. He begins screaming wildly. He begins to jerk desperately. He…has his head twisted to the side…_SNAP_. He goes limp…

The man stays standing, held upright by the wrapping strands of airy, delicate, shadowy tendrils. Silence crawls sinisterly from hiding, but is quickly beat away as the sounds of rushing winds fill the air.

All the darkness whips to the backside of the man. Shadows leave the figure to fall forward, slamming lifelessly onto the ground. Shadows converge into a shapeless blob in the air.

This has to be a dream. It has to be.

The black mess vibrates sickeningly. Elongated strands of solid black grow from the sides of the ever-expanding mass. One strand grows from each side as the core of the shadowy horror molds to a shape of an hourglass.

They…are…arms…to a body…

A sweet, gentle laughter tickles the air beautifully. Pale white colors seep into the supposed arms, and creeps down what I am guessing are the legs. Emerging from the top is a sleek oval that too is filled with a white glow.

Thousands of black strands dance from the top of the figure's skull. Delicately they waft upon the wind. Delicately they fall to the figure's face. They form its hair, and they dance across the figure's beautiful…face….

Smooth skin holds the edges of the individual's cheeks. A curved nose glistens majestically upon glinting skin. Two, piercing, black orbs lock upon my being. Eyebrows slant maliciously, matching the sinister smirk growing on her face.

Once all the shaping ceases, I can see the woman before me. Shadows dance like sheets of silk across her body. Tempting skin glistens in the light, intensified by the dark shadows radiating across her body.

She is…gorgeous. Gorgeous…and terrifying…

Her arms bend and sway seductively, while twisting legs taunt me with every move. She is temptation in the form of something purely evil. A temptress, a mistress of the dark, a woman…so…beautiful…

Reality bends and shifts as the pain returns in the back of my skull. It grows rapidly as if displeased by my prior ignorance. I sink into the back of my mind, the world folding into the distance.

_You are passing out…_

A tightening grips my chest. Air struggles to crawl into my lungs. The edges of my vision are skewed to that of a green tint. This cannot be happening, not now.

As I fade into my own horrors, I see the elegant creature before me bend forward, her spine bent in only a way a seductive woman dare do.

"Don't go and die now." She pulls her hand near her lips. "My heart would be broken if got killed…"

The world grows darker…borders growing jade…

"…By someone other than me."

A giggle dances from her throat. She braces her back with her free hand, while blowing me a kiss with the other.

"Sweet dreams, Hope."

With that, the world becomes a background to my injuries. All thought processes are skewed. All…reality…hazy. Well, Hope, in less than ten minutes, you made an enemy, watched a man die, got threatened by a woman, and got a concussion. Impressive.

So much for taking care of myself…


	5. Chapter 3: Never alone

"_Remember, my child, that all heroes, all champions, know when to fight and when to flee. Have control, Arthas. Do not let your pride blind you from the latter."_

_King Menethil II to Arthas as the boy departed for teachings under Lord Uther.

* * *

_

A sick, disturbing pain trickles down the back of my skull and down to my spine. Weary limbs twitch and shift gently as I attempt to move. Heavy, unresponsive eyelids struggle to stay closed; they seal, as if to prevent me from gaining proper vision of my surroundings. There isn't anything here besides me...nor am I actually here. It is just a dream, yet my eyes seem to be fighting me...

But that seems foolish. Why would they want to do that?

_You might as well not take a glimpse, then. You might find ignorance as bliss here_.

Deep pulsations ripple down my arms. Sensation creeps back into my legs, prompting me to shift them. All of my body moves. All of it…besides the stubborn shields covering my eyes.

_You asked for it..._

Instantly, the seals crack, breaking the dam to that which is the flooding light. A teal cascade washes over me, bathing my sensitive orbs in what I was already expecting. I blink a few times to wipe away the blurred vision of sleep.

Carefully, slowly, I brace my arms to my back and prop myself to a sitting position. I blink again, but this blasted morning vision is making everything so darn hazy. I lift my hands and use them to brush away any grim that may be lingering.

I remove my hands, blink a few times…and take it all in…to its entirety.

Once again, massive, jade trees loom before me. Thick, green underbrush dances all around. Another clearing rests to my right and ends a short distance as it runs into another canopy. The world is tainted by the green glow again, but for some, strange reason it almost feels as if it isn't so green this time.

_You take crazy, good sir. You know…well…maybe it is more of a lighter green now. You might not be crazy, sir, but don't assume you are not!_

Wait, what? Great, you went and confused me!

_You know I am good at it._

I sigh, and pull myself to my feet. I throw my head to the left, presumably back towards Stratholme. The world grows darker in that direction. Overwhelming, green hues thicken as if the purest of the color's form.

My head twists the other direction, down the route I plan to follow; of course, there are no roads or man-made obstacles that way, but nonetheless, once I escape this fantasyland that is where I shall be headed.

And, oddly, that direction heeds a light teal color. It almost feels as if the green of this path is filled with a sense of light, yet spews a corrupt aura as well. Strange. Very strange.

_You, for once, are right. You can feel the darkness of the misleading glow, just as I can_.

The longer I gaze into the brighter fields of endless trees and shrubbery…I find myself growing lightheaded. It is alluring, that glow, yet it tugs at the muscles within my stomach.

I should look away, but…it keeps my focused locked. The muscle within my ribcage tightens and releases rapidly. Adrenaline floods my veins, forcing unwanted fuel into my system.

I should look away, but I cannot…

_You must._

I must look away, but it has me…

_You must gain control!_

I need to look away, and my body tells me…

_You will! You will have me do it, if you will not!_

It is then that my sight is broken by shifting branches and twitching bushes. I no longer gawk into the void, but I sense something worse approaching. Something is moving at the far edge of the opening. Exactly the same as the prior visit to this land…

Suddenly, a dull thud radiates and the forest quakes. Treetops sway gently to the rolling rumble, but cease movement after a brief second.

However, as the vast majority of the foliage ceases movement, the small patch continues stirring. The trees shake more violently while shrubberies whip wildly. What could it be? Another thud echoes from far away, but the shockwave still catches the foliage.

Again the vegetation rocks, stopping a moment after the occurrence. There is peace again, except for that same, small patch near the opening…

Suddenly, a pair of bright, red eyes spark at the edge of the thrashing underbrush. The two orbs glare upon me. I can feel their piercing sight upon my tingling flesh. But that cannot be. I am not really a part of this world. I am simply getting a weak glimpse of this world, a fleeting moment of some dreamland.

_Thud_

Instantly, the glowing eyes are drawn to the noise, drifting to the side. In a flash, the orbs shift from the cover, and the entire beast emerges. And, it is not at all what I was expecting…

It is a rather large…feline…

A thick, dark green coat covers the vast of the four-legged beast. Claws tear fiercely at the soil, while rolling shoulders give the creature speed. Patches of fur dangles from the underbelly, as well as from the chin.

As it nears me, I ready myself, but for futile reasons. The cat does not look at me any longer. No, it has its sights locked on the forest ahead, and at the speed it is moving, it wants to be there far more than it wishes to reach me. Of course, it never knew I was even here. Right?

_You might be right…_

In a flash it sprints through the forest, past me, and down the path that leads to the dark haze. As it passed, I believe I caught sight of colored patches of fur around the beast's ruby orbs, and…what I think to be a necklace.

_Y__our eyes do not deceive you._

_Thud_

The rumble grows louder and gains control of my wandering focus. I twist my head back towards where the cat came from, but I do not need to move much before I get a sight of another one. And another. Actually, dozens emerge from the foliage, scampering towards me at an absurd pace.

They rush past me in droves, all unaware of my presence. They rush past me, unaware of anything but the path ahead of them. They rush past me…with only one thought within their heads.

They are running…

_Thud_

Out of fear…

Unexpectedly, I hear a loud, unclear voice. I pull back to the direction of the opening. Rushing through the center of the small clearing is pack of speeding cats, and what I assume to be a giant bear. The large mammal wears the same color scheme as the cats, but is…well…bigger.

_You are profound_.

However, it is what stands amongst the opening that catches my attention. Holding itself upright, is a bipedal being. Heavy cloths cling to the figure's sides and down his legs. A pair of curling, dark green shoulder pads fold downward to an array of spikes; almost appears as if his shoulder armor are giant bear-claws…

Of course, his entirety is radiates a green glow, but his skin is much lighter, almost that of a purple than a green. A pair of long ears ride from the sides of skulls, and lead to thick, bluish hair. Deep-green paint marks cover the area around his eyes and run back to his ears. That face coloring almost matches that of the animals…

He suddenly shouts something in a language I do not understand. His shoulder turns towards my side of the clearing, and he points in this direction. Again he shouts, but I do not know what he says.

_THUD_

But, from the reaction of the creatures, I get the feeling they do.

The entire clearing fills with scurrying bears, cats, and tiny creatures. They move rapidly, without any care besides the direction they follow. Overhead, I hear the beating wings of unseen creatures.

Promptly, I gaze upwards, and I strange, sickening feeling grasps my stomach.

_THUD_

The ground quakes violently, but I cannot take my eyes off the sight above me. Hundreds upon hundreds of birds flock upon the wind…

_THUD_

Again, the ground quakes, but the rhythmic motion of the birds keeps me locked. There are so many of them…

_THUD_

_You really should take advice from their unsaid words…_

_THUD_

A harsh, violent rumble shakes my very balance. I grip the tree to my side, and sweep the field around me. The tall man, or, whatever it is, has moved to this side of the clearing, and…he is looking in my direction…

No, he is looking…at me…

Bright, glowing eyes lock upon mine. He has seen me, but how can that be? This isn't real. I am simply a ghost amongst these lands. This is my dreamland, and I cannot really be a part of it. I always thought I was merely gazing into it…

But he continues to gawk. He moves carefully towards me, eyes always locked. There is no way he sees me. Hell, as of yesterday I thought I was alone here, now there is a massive pack of wild animals and a giant…blue man. But there is no way he can see me…

He nears the border and abruptly stops, almost flinching as he comes to some realization. It is then that I too come to a revelation of my own. He can see me…and I get the horrible, unnerving feeling…that I am not simply watching what is happening here…

He stares a second longer before softly emitting the word, "Impossible."

_THUD_

A loud, immense crash shatters the opposite side of the forest. Tree shake violently, and bend to unnatural limits. Shrubs dance side to side in a frenzy. Birds scatter upon the wind, and animals dart for safety for my side…

Without warning, a sound of horrific qualities rolls upon the winds. It trembles and assaults my mind with a barrage of screeches and low, deep-pitched roars. The combination of ear-piercing noises almost seem metallic in nature, as if a machine is emitting them…

Sadly, with another crash, my thoughts are all brought to reality…

This cannot be real. This has to be a bad dream.

Appearing over the tops of the elevated trees is a pitch-black, circular shape. Lines cross the vast of the object, creating rivulets of pulsating teal and black. These same streaks glow and fade rather rhythmically, dimming and flashing to a sinister beat.

The pulsating marks run to a large, vertical blocks that hold closely to the rotund object. These blocks end upon downward sloping, black curves, or massive shoulder plates. They too are covered in pulsating rune like marks. Arms run from below these heavy, blocks, and stretch half-length of the trees, but match the width equally.

I make to scan the rest of the towering construct, but movement near the spherical portion diverts my attention. Two, glowing spheres emerge in the center. Two, duller orbs appear in the middle of those, and shift back and forth, as if hunting for the unseen.

They are eyes…to a…head.

Below, animals continue to scamper, but my muscles have locked. All movement is impossible. A thunderstorm rages within my chest. Veins tense to painful limits. Fear seeps from every poor.

I now know why they were…are…running…

The orbs aim towards the ground, gaining sight of the fleeing animals. Bright streams of lit air rain from both eyes, forming a pair of spotlights upon the forest floor.

Unfortunately, they land upon a cat and follow it closely.

"Titan assault protocol activated." A harsh, low rumble ripples from its mechanical lungs, smashing the very air it touches with invisible tendrils, "Threats located…"

Flashes spark from the monstrosity's eyes, as the slow, rolling words emit, "Commencing sequence XT5. Eliminating targets."

That isn't good…

Before I can move, a pair of misshapen, malicious spheres erupts from the machine's eyes. In a flash, they soar from the sockets, tear the air with thrashing flares, and explode violently into the soil, sending pockets of sundered earth into the sky.

The cat is caught at the edges, and sent tumbling across the air. Its tiny body whips violently mid-air, before sickly slamming into a thick tree. It comes limp at the base.

There is a brief silence before the spotlights begin moving, black orbs trailing every inch of the path. Mighty, rumbling explosions vaporize the clearing, turning it to a crater-laden path of destruction.

It stops momentarily as it sweeps across the vast of the opening and to this edge. They shift rapidly before finally landing upon the tall figure nearby. He does not move, and the monster does not strike.

They look at each other, as if the two have met before. They stand, locked in mental warfare. They stand…readying for their own strike.

"Primary Target Detected, activating…" Oddly, the machine's eyes begin to shake, the spotlights quaking as if from fear, "Queue list entered. Foreign anomaly in area."

The lights shift, rolling across the canopy.

"Redirecting routing paths…"

The spotlights move, until I feel the light washing across my flesh. Burning energy caresses my bare skin. I raise my arms to shield myself from the light, but that is no use. No, that will do nothing.

Instead, I simply stand, staring at the beast, as did the other man. I stand with fear gripping every inch of my being. I stand…because I cannot do anything else.

"Unknown entity discovered. Processing possible outcomes." It pauses, the lights locked heavily upon me. "Activating Defense Protocols: Eliminate target."

I cannot breath. I cannot feel my legs. I cannot move.

_YOU MUST RUN, YOU IDIOT._

Unwillingly, I turn, facing the path of the many before me. I turn, attempting to hide the monster from my sights. I turn, because I do not know what else to do. I turn, to bring ignorance from the truth…

The one truth that runs my mind wildly.

If it can see me…then I am part of this fantasyland. And if I am a part of this world…what can it do to me?


	6. Chapter 4: His House

"_Weird. Yes, 'weird.' I do believe that is the title by which my virtues stand. You see, I have come to learn that being weird is simply the world's way of telling me I do not try to fit into the crazy image of society's norm. Weird how it works, ain't it?"_

_High Tinker Mekkatorque to a wandering adventurer._

_

* * *

_

Explosions rattle the very foundation of my existence. Pockets of heated dirt wash across the sensitive flesh of my arms. A grand, unrelenting force collides into the sides of my body, pulling me upon the air as if wings to my being.

Sadly, a sharp, horrific pain rips through my spine as something dense, hard, and unmoving greets my back. I feel myself stop moving before gravity begins to tug at my body. Quickly, and heavily, I plummet downwards, slamming into the cold ground below.

Ouch…

My limbs go limp. Sparks of random light trickle at the edges of my fluttering vision. My mind runs wild, unable to focus. Trees stand before me, but seem rather…horizontal. Did the world flip on me? Did this fake reality alter itself to confuse me?

_You are on your side, you idiot! You need to get up!_

A deep, motivating tingle travels down the nerves in my legs. Tense, directed muscles shift in my arms. Slowly, carefully, I roll to my belly, extend my arms, and push myself to a kneeling position.

That really, really hurt… …

I cannot steady my thoughts. I cannot control my mind. My head hurts way too much for me to even try. Wait…if this was unreal then I shouldn't be hurting. But I am. So, does that mean…

_You ninny, get up! _

A bright, intense heat surrounds the area around me. It is almost as if spotlights are directed simply upon myself.

Oh no.

Without hesitating, I jerk to an upright position. My legs lunge forward, not waiting for anything behind them. Just run forward, Hope. Do not dare look back! Just move, let the air rushing in and out of your lungs be your only focus! Dodge that tree, dodge that bush.

_TITHBURSH, TITHBURSH._

Explosions rumble loudly. Specks of mud slap the sides of my skull, driving my curiosity to boundaries unattainable. Winds of hot, fiery air expels from the impact spot, calling to my flesh to turn. Keep moving, Hope! Don't you dare look back!

Sounds of snapping trees and cracking shrubs fill the air. Metal screeches, assaulting the mind and sanity. Air rushes past. Do not look…

_THUD_

I stumble as a mighty shockwave rolls steadily beneath my feet. My arms wrap around a tree, barely clinging to it as the rest of my body continues on. Painfully, my chest slaps the bark of the healthy tree. What was that…?

It is then I find myself facing back the direction from whence I came. And there, shifting through the forest it so dwarfs, is the behemoth. Its leg is shifted forward, showing its prior step. The other lifts from the ground. It drags across the sky, catching, clipping, and uprooting entire trees before it excels downward…

_THUD_

Another horrific quake sends a sinister ripple across these once tranquil lands. I watch, almost hypnotized, as the first leg moves forward once again…but, as it lowers to land, a terrifying sense of flight enters my mind.

Run! _THUD_

Again, the land quivers like a lake disturbed by a boulder. After the wave wafts by, I spin and take to my feet once more. I do not dare scope for signs of the beast. I do not dare comprehend where the explosions are, nor dare calculate how far the craters are from the splashing dirt they spawn. I do not dare…

All I do…is run…

_THUD_

A massive, indescribably dark object crushes the terrain to my left. I lose all footing as the mere crash shatters all my stability. I can feel my body fall forward, and the my flesh part to scratching branches of sundered foliage. The world quakes violently, but I am not sure if it is from the monster, or from the pain rolling from my ear into my skull. I promptly brace myself on the soil before a deep thermal source caresses my back.

A curved, solid arch of light forms around the top of my head. I do not need to look to know what that is…

As adrenaline courses through my trembling veins, I find myself uncontrollably flipping to my back. It is then all thought processes, all ability of control, all sense of cohesion fades.

Above me, the eyes of the mighty glare down, like the magnificent stars themselves. A dark, silhouette of hand curls beneath the beams, like the very hand of the Titans. It reaches down for me, as if directing…

But I will not follow.

Fear and tension grip my soul, forcing me to roll to my side, and scramble underneath the beast's legs. A sharp pain burning from the right side of my head slows me. But it is brief, ignored quickly. I continue onward, praying that my futile crawl will lead me from the beast…but I am too slow…

A heavy force surrounds my legs. I can feel them lifting, but I continue to claw at the earth. I must fight them! They will not take!

"Let go of me!" The words slip from my lips.

But it pays no heed to my pitiful cries. I lift upward, my hands the only surface still touching the ground. The pain intensifies around my head. The agony does not subside, even as I float mid-air. My skull knows nothing but anguish…my legs limp…my arms useless…

It has me, and there is nothing I can do…

I close eyes, but continue thrashing, praying I can find anything that will aid. A deep, heavy throb rattles my entire being, and a strange flash of light envelops the inner sanctums of my eyes.

The pain dulls significantly. It is then I feel a heavy pressure build on my back. My legs and arm grow heavier, yet are braced by something unseen. My head lurches to the side, as if being tugged…

I open my eyes, letting the tan, sickly light cleanse the palette of sight. Around me are dozens of decrepit, homely buildings. A pinch ejects from my right ear, and I turn my head.

Standing there, large in my vision, is the orange hue of a two-legged, unbelievable raptor. Its tiny mouth is latched to my ear, and it pulls at it with all the force it can. A smile sweeps my face, and as it does, I can feel the little beast begin vibrating.

She lets go, lunging at my face. Her heavy, slimy tongue washes my eyes of all the evil and impurity. Her tiny claws lock to the sides of my head, preventing me from fleeing. But even with her adorable, innocent self…I can feel the darkness. It clings to me, like lamprey to fishy scales.

A race begins within the confines of my chest. Acids bubble within my gullet. We have to get out of here! It is not safe. The titan's monster could be waiting! Waiting for me to doze off again.

_You should move…_

Without hesitation, I roll towards Squeals, pull to my feet, drag the wriggling pet from my face and into my arms, and begin running. I take off down the road I planned to follow. I rush down the path, my pack and shovel bouncing off my back.

And I run. I run for no reason. I run like those before me, and with effort of those proceeding. I run…like the animals of my dreamland. I run…from my own fear.

And I do stop. I round a bend, pass by a dozen demonic dogs. Bats and gargoyles fade in and out of my vision. Giant grubs wiggle across dead grass. Time itself seems lost as I run for what feels like hours.

I must keep moving…I must not stop.

Ignore the rolling, decaying hills. Bring darkness to the cascading mushrooms of scourge-terror. Do not stop for anything. It is then, exactly as I think the prior thought to myself, that a small, unmistakable structure crawls into my vision.

Standing atop a lone, murky hill is a small, tattered abode. Quickly, I rush up the hill and come to a scattered bone pile. I hesitate briefly before scampering into the house and slamming the door behind.

I flip the old table, the only piece of furniture in this dark, bleak room. With all haste I drag myself to the floor. My legs lock with door, while my back braces the creaking table. Light dances from the many cracks in the walls, sprinkling reality across my flesh.

But it doesn't matter what happens, or what waits.

Here…I know I am safe…

I take a deep breath. My eyes sweep the room before darting down. Squeals gawks at my awkwardly. A smirk forms on my face, and stroke the tiny monster in my hands. My fingers run down her tiny tummy. She struggles at first, but her kicking legs signify her delight.

She curls up in my arms, growing comfortable with each passing second. I, however, cannot shake the dark feeling strangling my mind. I cannot shake it, however I try.

Y_ou won't be able to…_

I don't care; I simply want this moment for myself. I simply want to fade into the overwhelming peace of this room. I simply want the walls to secure me from the evil outside.

_You know they won't…_

But they have to! He built them! He…built them…

And I here I sit, for what feels like an eternity. My eyes never break from the door, despite the weight adding to them with each passing moment. My arms do not stop barraging the beast below. My mind…never stops racing…

But that is ok. Calm down, Hope. You are safe here. Relax.

I take a deep breath, and then release it.

I sigh, speaking to my self, "He will protect us." Squeals chirps, "He may not be here, but I know we will be safe…in his stead. Nathanos always protects us…"

It is then I stare at the door, waiting for the darkness to return. It is there, a thousands thoughts cross my mind.. Here I sit, terrified of the uncontrollable, while an unseen world tries to pull me into its sinister grasp. Here I sit, alone, living the life of an outcast. Here I sit, wishing Marris could come stand beside me, to fight the enemy as we always have. Exactly like he did upon the hills of Aszhara and the white mountains of Ice Crown. Together…we fought the world…

But that is beyond me, beyond this weird body. Beyond this lone house.

My eyelids grow heavy, but I do not care. I am safe here. The world grows dark, but before I lose consciousness, one, depressing thought creeps into my mind… and I feel a lone tear roll down the side of my cheek.

I wish, for just one day, I could be normal…so that when I sleep, I don't have to fear my own dreams…


	7. Chapter 5: Dreams and Death Knights

"_I am shpent enough time at the edgesh of water, hunting fissh within the murky shurfaces, to know what the shea's wildlife is trying to tell ush – hic."_

_Nat Pagle during one of his drunken stupors._

_

* * *

_

"Hope."

A sweet voice tickles the edges of mind.

"Hope, sweetie, its time to get up."

I feel my arm moving, attempting to remove the feminine voice from my presence.

"My, my…" There is a pause and the sounds of footsteps. "Looks like we are doing this the hard way, eh?"

As the last words slip her lips I make to open my eyes, but it is too late. Without warning I feel gentle fingertips collide with my ribs. Delicately they dance, running up my sides with no mercy. My limbs thrash wildly, hoping to drive back the unyielding prodding, but she has me. She got me good.

And now I am trapped, left to live in her assault. And sadly, all I can do is laugh. Laugh uncontrollably.

"I will stop if you get up!" She giggles as I roll to my side, "What, you haven't had enough?"

Immediately I feel her fingers shift their pace. Faster and faster they tap a trot of terrible pleasure. I tug, but the blanket is wrapped around my legs and side. So much tickling. So much laughing. Too much. Too much!

"Ok, ok!" Desperately, yet laughingly, I cry to her, "Uncle! Uncle!"

My thrashing continues on, praying for the end to this merciless onslaught. My legs curl into my body, as I roll to my side. I can still feel her hands upon me, barraging my body…but…yet…I cannot feel her fingers.

She giggles, and curiously I open my eyes. A pair of large, beautiful blue orbs lock upon mine. Freckles form a faded pattern beneath her glowing eyes. Sweet, red lips curl to a malicious, kind smile.

"Now, don't you feel better?"

I smile, but…I a surge of unwanted emotions overwhelm me. A frown forms, but I am far too lost in my head to notice. Unfortunately, she is not one to ignore it.

"Sweetie…you don't have to be scared of the other children."

Her smile fades, but still hangs firmly. I, however, shake my head and pull the blankets to my cheeks.

"I don't want to go to school. They are meanies. They are just going to make fun of me"

Her hand reaches for mine, driving back the warm cover.

"My little angel, the kids just cannot see how special you are. They are jealous." She pulls closer to me, "You are perfect, and it makes them mad. They want to bring you down."

She runs her fingers through my hair, "So spread the wings of your adorable smile and soar. Fly like an angel near and far. Glide until your troubles are no more. Let them see you for who you are. You are the angel, my angel. You are the hope, my Hope."

Her fingers run back to my lips, running the lengths of my now growing smirk. "Now, how about some breakfast?"

With that, I give her a weak nod, and she stands, and makes for the door. However, as she opens it, she turns to me, blows me a kiss, and smiles. I pull myself up and throw my body out of bed. She continues to smile…except for…

Her coughing…

She tries to hide it, but she cannot. Even with her hand and stubborn, sealed lips, I can see her shake and hear her release muffled disturbances. A sense of concern envelops my tiny self as I come to my feet.

"Momma, I can help you."

She turns back to me and smiles.

"I would much like that, but..." she scans me, "someone might want to get dressed first."

She vanishes through the door, and I instantly begin searching the room. Pants, shirt, socks. Check, check, check. Ok, pull that over my head. Now pull those up. Slide those annoying feet warmers over my toes. Done and done.

Toes wriggle, forcing white cloth to wrinkle with each flick. My feet slide against the floor, directed for a pair of black, leather shoes. Gently, carefully, I guide my feet into them and smile as I complete my task.

But my joy does not last…

At first it starts gently, an insignificant beat of battered lungs. But with each passing second it grows. I shuffle across the room. My hands lock to the door. Ear pressed against the wood to hear.

The sound intensifies, with it an increasing sense of paranoia. It is then, as clanking pots and shattering glass interrupt the rhythmic blasts, that my fears are real….

I do not even feel my arms knock back the door, nor my feet guiding me into the kitchen. But my eyes do not miss the sight. Slumped against the sink is the once lively form of my mother. In her stead is a torn woman, ravaged by the relentless cough we know too well.

"Mother!"

I dart across the room, rushing to her side, but I cannot near her. She seems to grow further and further away. Why can I not get to her? I just want to hold her! I just want to bring her the safety she brings me!

"Let go of me!"

Again I yell, but at whatever, or whoever holds me. But nothing has me. Nothing is holding me back. Nothing is keeping me from her, but how can I not move? She needs me! She needs!

"Momma, your angel is here! Mother!"

Her hand reaches for mine, but I cannot reach it. The distance between us grows, expanding to a field of black and nothingness. Try harder, Hope! Try harder!

"Momma, your Hope is right here!"

The words slip out of my mouth, and darkness consumes me. My eyes slip open, letting the dark, partially lit light fill my sight. An uncomfortable object presses into my back. To my sides, I see nothing but rotting wood and cracked walls.

I am awake…another nightmare. Of course.

My body slows, but quickly tenses as I notice the door is partially ajar. Instantly, I sweep the room, scanning for one object. I look across every inch, and grow fearful as I gaze down into my arms.

She is gone.

Without hesitation, I leap to my feet, throw the door open, and dart panicked outside. I make to rush down the hill, but a tiny chirp from behind draws my attention. I scan the horizons, attempting to decipher the sound's location.

Another chirp…and I know exactly where it is.

Glancing to the pile of bones, I see one moving skull shifting across the grass. I watch it, letting the lifeless object shoot wobbly across the small field. A smile forms across my face as it rushes headlong into the building and…

_Thump_

Bone rains as the tiny skull is crushed by the impact. A tiny, orange object stumbles from the wreckage, a large chunk of bone still placed on its head. Like a tiny helmet, it hangs to the top of her head as she scans the terrain.

Finally, she glances to me, and begins to shake. A slimy, red tongue slips from her mouth as her tiny body sways to the sweep of its tail. I sigh, and shake my head at her.

"Well, it suites you, Squeals."

She chirps, running over to a small hill facing the road. Her large, now armored head looks back to me and she chirps loudly. She leaps forward, scampering down the slope. I sigh and take off after her.

Where in the world is she going?

_You never know._

Oh, now you feel like showing up?

_You know I am master of timing._

I sigh again, but keep focused on the tiny pet. She scurries on to the gravel, and rushes towards the two, broken spires that form an arch before us. I remember them…

_You couldn't possibly forget…_

Second by second, the gray edifice grows, forming a curved stone path only a short distance away now. She rushes to it, directing us the perfect way. She hurries for the bridge, but oddly diverts as we near.

She struggles up a small hill, and I reluctantly follow.

"Girl, where are you…"

Before I can finish my statement, a figure appears in my vision. A thick, cape, bordered by white and fading to black in the center, covers the back of the man. From here, I can see a pair of large shoulder pads. If my vision serves me well, I believe I see a dozen, skeleton arms, lined vertically next to each other upon his shoulders. They form a circular pattern, each one as if protruding from underside of his pads , reaching for the heavens above. They encompass what appears to be a large block in the center, but from here, I cannot make out if that is correct…

However, before I can continue gawking, a low, raspy voice booms loudly.

"Little Squeals? Well, if you are here, I am guessing your friend is close behind."

She rushes to its legs and chirps. At that, the figure lurches to its feet, revealing a pair of large, black gloves. It turns slowly, twisting in my direction. A pair of solid black boots is revealed. I notice stray rivulets carved into the side of each boot. Within said slit is a pulsing light, fading from blue to black, almost of that of the Titan giants of prior.

Finally, he turns to me. Pale flesh is partially covered by silver and white hair upon his head and chin. Glowing blue eyes match the wavering voice of the said figure. So, this is where he went.

"Hope Blackwood, what are you doing here?"

I feel my head shaking as I move to him, "I was thinking the exact same thing."

He glares at me, "Are you lost, or simply dazed and confused?"

I stop, narrowing my vision on him, "I like to consider my self aimlessly determined. What is your excuse for being here?"

"Consider me more as determinedly aimless." He turns from me, directing his vision to an armored horse to his side. "Sadly, I must break from my lackluster tradition, and direct myself into the nearby Andorhal."

The man shifts across the dead grass, as if gliding. Strangely, as he reaches the horse, he diverts his focus upon the joyful, wriggling beast that is Squeals. All movement stops as he gazes down to her. He just stares…until finally he glances back to me, then to her.

At that he sighs, reaching for the tiny beast. She does not fight, but I do flinch as he tucks her at his side. A dull thumping radiates from within me as he leaps upon his mount. He adjusts himself on the horse, only to shuffle my once organized demeanor.

Lastly, he draws the little monster from his arm, places it upon a metallic curve on top of the horse's helm, and turns to me.

"You know as well as I the conversation lost in this moment."

He whips the reins, maneuvering the horse in my direction.

"Now do me a favor, and use the foregoing of said dialogue as my acceptance."

The side of the beast draws near, but I cannot help but look at him.

"Darion, what in the world are you talking about?"

He lowers his eyebrows, "Hope, get on this horse, or I am taking your pet."

I glare at him, attempting to call his bluff, but…that would be idiotic. He would take her just to spite me. At that, I claw at the metal siding of the beast, but like usual, I find myself unable to get on.

"Hope, I swear," I feel his hand grip the back of my shoulder, "you are really special sometimes."

With a mighty tug, I find myself lifting and properly lowering into position. I wiggle in my spot before he turns the side of his face to me.

"Comfortable?"

I shrug, "Not sure, but…I am certain I have something sharp stabbing me somewhere it really shouldn't be."

"What a shame," he cracks the reins, "I hope it doesn't ruin your day."

The horse lunges forward, moving quickly, but not so to truly bother me. Dirt crackles beneath the heavy hooves, and grass buckles to the combined weight of two passengers and a Squeals.

_You are adding the three-pound runt to this equation?_

Not really, just more of a mental joke. It is obvious that the thick, dreary armor of my said driver is obviously the cause of the bulk of the baggage. Though, speaking of Darion, I cannot help but feel an undying need to question him.

_You know better!_

"Darion?"

"What?"

"Why are you taking me with you?"

He groans and speaks without looking back, "Honestly, Hope, you are far more of a burden then an asset here. I need all haste available, and your extra weight does not aid me in that purpose."

I glare at the back of his head, "Darion Mograine, how in the world did that answer my question?"

A grunt escapes his lungs, "That being said, Hope, be thankful I wish to keep you from wandering into your own demise more then the speed of my venture. Now be quiet"

There is a silence, silence except for the now battering hooves echoing upon the heavy stones of the bridge. Thoughts tangle in my mind, forming bramble patches of confusion and wonder. Don't say a word…

_You better not!_

"Darion?"

"What?"

His voice is angrier than before. I cannot imagine why.

"Why are you heading to Andorhal?"

Darion does not say a word. Instead, he lifts his left arm, directing it out at an angle. I follow the bulky, bony pads. My vision glides down the black, pulsing arms and lock onto the lone, pointing finger.

My eyes navigate to the waters below. Nausea creeps within the churning acids of my stomach. Dozens of black, gray, and brown objects float upon the surface of the water. Tiny, glossy beads glare back from their sides. Thin sheets line the sides of the long, lifeless arbitrations.

Fish…dozens of dead fish. And between them, are growing pustules of water. The fluid bubbles and pops wildly, as if boiling. Yes, if I am correct…boiling is right. How in the world?

I do not know what it means, nor do I know its significance. All I know is that it has me worried. That and it has Darion bothered enough to leave the home that is the Plaguelands.

And that is enough for me.


	8. Chapter 6: Great Divider

Hello everybody,

I have decided to write this short message to show that I am more than a posting machine -- it is true. Mostly, I am writing this to say that the chapters I will be writing will be shorter in nature than my previous stories. It just makes more sense to have shorter chapters for easier reading. That, and I can add more cliff-hangers for the torturing. XD

Secondly, I am certain there are more than just three people reading this, so I have come to say I don't bite, I don't mind reviews. I don't need a paragraph, or anything -- they are nice b/c I am one for CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Just something to let me know you are reading it. You know, like "Thumbs up!" or "Weee!"

Though, all and all, if I know, and I do, that one person is reading, I will continue to post. Reviews would be nice, however. Lastly, and definitely most importantly, thank you to Pyro and Aony --yeah, thats ONY with an "A" and that is your new nickname, you who knows who I am speaking to-- for your reviews.

*edit: I posted this before I saw Ataksuki's review. With that, thank you for the review. Though it may be to point out my ignorance, let it not be naught! It is most appreciated. Some of Blizz's Day-time Drama confuses me on what happens. Some stuff is just not straight with me...so its good to know someone is checking my readings on Warcraft lore.

Oh, and there are many, many more chapters to come. This is just the beginning...for a most-likely long story. I hope no one minds.

Enjoy!

* * *

"_Too long have we lingered within the churning abyss of the relentless shadows. Too long have we waded in its overwhelming fear. Too long, brothers and sisters. Too long. It is time to remove the tainted veil and march forward…united under the light of life."_

_Saylem MacKarthy to initiate the gruesome night known as Death's Demise._

_

* * *

_

"Darion?"

Silence, matching that of this short trip, follows. Silver hair dances upon his head. Heavy, padded shoulders shift upon his flesh. Their movement gives me proper sight of what lies behind the claws perched at the pad's sides.

They are downward slanted, six-sided, elongated blocks. And, if I am seeing correctly, I believe the letters, "R.I.P." are etched into the top of each one. They are tombstones, crafted from metal, facing the skies above. I may not know where he got those, or how, but I do a idea what may have influenced their design.

Darion doesn't like to talk about it. He doesn't like to talk about that night. He doesn't want to recall the memory of hundreds of his people, his soldiers, his friends...his brothers and sisters. He doesn't want to remember what happened to them all. He doesn't even want to speak about who started it.

But we all know the man's name. Saylem MacKarthy.

It's not important, I figure. All and all, I just guess everyone is getting a makeover…except for poor'ole Hope. Actually, I don't think I have gotten a new outfit for a year now…

_You don't smell ripe or anything! You do need a good change, though_.

Speaking of change, from here I can see the partially erected walls of the Andorhal. I am certain those did not exist last time I visited here, and do not recall there being so much activity within said walls before.

Buildings stand confidently amongst the wastes surrounding them. Fresh paint lines the edifices, giving life to that was once vacant. Scaffolding runs around the larger towers while signs and lights beam from the completed, smaller structures. Figures run the lengths and paths of them all. Life amongst the sea of dead…

It would seem that one city managed resurrection after the collapse of the Scourge.

We near the city rather quickly. The horses hooves slap the gravel firmly, pounding a beat for our pace. With each passing second the walls grow larger, the lights blare brighter, and voices intensify.

The horse rounds a bend, passing by small piles of wooden wreckage as it moves. The walls now loom over us now, showing the true success story of this once ruined town. It is incredible…

_You knew she could do it._

I always knew the dragon was good, but this…this is remarkable. Swiftly, we ride to the sealed gates, which stand twice our height and a good three horse lengths wide. While I gawk at the wooden decorations carved into the sides, two guards approach us from their stations.

"Holt!" The rather deep voice bellows from beneath the warrior's helm, "What business do you have in…"

He pauses, shifting in his spot. His head tilts forward before he grabs the edges of his helmet. Promptly the figure lifts his helm from his head, revealing a pale, decaying, partially-fleshless face. He is undead…

"Lord Mograine?" The guard chuckles before waving to the other, "Rob, it is the Great Knight himself!"

Mograine sighs, but is unable to speak. The second guard rushes over to us, he too removing his helm for a better sight. This one has a face…and pinkish skin. He is alive. A living human…

"My word…" he gawks aimlessly at Darion. Both stand there, gazing pointlessly at the armored Death Knight. A good minute passes, and nothing…

Finally, Darion tilts his head forward, and throws his an unseen, but well known, glare. I know he is assaulting them with his...average...expression due to the sudden flinching of both guards. However, one is able to gather himself quickly enough to reply before the Death Knight has to do something...expected.

"Uh, our apologizes." The undead guard spins, waving at the top of the gate, "Let them pass! Urgent business!"

An array of creaks and grinds rain from the gate' interior and exterior. Light breaks at the seams, exposing the fresh core behind. It takes a few seconds for the blockers to spread, but Darion doesn't waste a moment rushing through them.

We move quickly, leaving the rather odd couple behind. We make a hard right at the first branch and continue down the curving path. I ignore it though, returning my focus to the guards prior. That was strange. I have never seen that before…humans and undead...together

_You have too. You and Nathanos? You remember them?_

Well, yeah, but not like this. This is different. Maybe he knows...

"Darion?"

"Hope?" His reply is sharp and bitter.

"Um, why were there…you know…"

"Those were people known as 'guards,' Hope. You see, they stand in certain areas, protecting…"

"Darion, you know what I mean."

He turns his face to me, a weak smirk spread on his face.

"Chromie does wonders, Hope. Her and Tok."

I stare at him for a moment before weakly nodding. Good enough for me.

At that, we head to a large T intersection. There, the path diverts to the left, while continuing onward. To the right is a partially constructed wall, so much so that the there is a gap starting from about three feet high. A person could easily enter and exit there. Kind of made the whole gate procedure a bit worthless…

_You said it._

I feel the horse jerk to the left, heading towards the center of town. We don't make it far, though. For down a short distance is a large pack of people. They stand mashed together, attempting to get sight of something I obviously cannot see. To make the situation even stranger, they are silent. All of them, except for a loud, distant, echoing voice…

Is it a ceremony or something?

Before I dare wander within my own head, Darion maneuvers us to the side of a building, and into a dark alley. There he leaps from his mount, gives it a firm slap on the side, and removes Squeals from its head.

He glances to me before heading down the passage. I sigh, carefully remove myself from side steed, and follow in pursuit of the rather hasty Knight. He darts to the left, behind a large building.

Great, there he goes…being all…Darion…like…

I find the narrow passage he took, follow, and just barely catch sight of him slink down another back-alley. Almost running now, I move to the next path. Again, I get a glimpse of him before he lunges to the right. With each route taken, the voice from earlier grows louder. With each route taken, I grow more and more flustered.

Sadly, when I reach the next part of the labyrinth, I am unable to see which way he went. Don't panic Hope, don't panic. Just keep moving. I rush past one passage to my left. Nothing. One to my right. Empty. Don't…panic…

A machine loads in my chest, prepping for a future battering barrage. Muscles tie to a spring, readying for the anxiety. Another passage way. Nothing. The gun unloads, a horrible pounding in my chest. The muscles are released, nervous adrenalin coursing through them.

It is then, as I come to another small gap in the buildings, that notice life at the far end. From here, I can see a wall of shifting figures. It would seem that I found the masses again. Might as well head that way.

I relax as I rush down this unroofed corridor, but grow a bit uneasy as I come to the pack of undead and living alike. My head stands just over the bulk of the crowd, allowing me easy sight of the gathering.

Ahead, I can see hundreds of individuals, and now I can make out the figure speaking. He stands tall on his platform, positioned by a tiny, red-haired gnome. Chromie! I cannot see Darion, but...he is a big boy. He can take care of himself. Chromie is my target now.

Without hesitating, I rush headlong into the pack. I use my rather unfocused sway to push quickly through the crowd. Arms, legs, and any other limb available smacks my sides and head. Angry spectators make sure their two-cents are thrown my way, but I have a knack for ignorance.

_You certainly do…_

"Denizens of Andoral!" I can make out the speaker clearly now, "The light marches upon these lands once again!"

I shift past more and more individuals.

"With your strength, your courage, your will, you constructed a city that harbors the three virtues of the righteous!"

I can see the edge of the crowd.

"Take pride in your efforts! Take comfort in your completed tasks!" He pauses as I near the end. Ominously, his voice intensifies, the sense of joy and glee fading to dark rumbling, "But do not grow defenseless…"

My eyes divert to the speaker as come to the outer bulge of the crowd.

"Dark wastes encompass every inch outside these mighty walls! Death waits, hungering for an opportunity to strike."

The speaker moves across his stage, using his arms to exemplify his words.

"The monsters of the Scourge still taint these lands! Corrupting every inch of fresh, holy soil!"

I make to move forward, but a strange, robed figure stops me. I can barely make out his face from here, but it is not that which is important. His robes are black, with a purple border near the cuffs and feet. Exactly like the crazy man from Corin's Crossing…

"Even within these walls the filth of the Lich King's design remain!"

It is with those words that I can hear the growing rise of voices within the crowd.

"How long must we tolerate the creations that still linger? How long must we bath in the grotesque aura of the abominations crafted by death itself? How long?"

A cascade of enraged voices roll from the crowd.

"Burn, you mindless tool! A voice booms from nearby.

"How dare you come here, preaching our removal from own city!" Another comes from an undead man.

More and more voices roll with each passing second.

"You see, my brothers and sisters of the light, they want only hostility!" The figure strafes across his platform.

"They only know hatred and destruction!"

"Die, you monster!" A citizen shouts. "Leave us!" Another. "We did fine without your empty words!" Another.

He waves his arms at the roaring crowd.

"My followers here, the ones in black, bear the colors of darkness to bring you fear! To show you how the mere dark color is enough to spread terror amongst these lands!"

He shifts again.

"But you can see all the evil that they possess! Their clothing is their only darkness, their only iniquity, but your Scourge…friends…hide their sinister dealings within! They do not show it openly on their outside! You won't know of their malicious plotting until they have already planted the seed of destruction!"

The man points to the crowd, "Let my followers show you the darkness of their ways!" He waves at the dozens of robed guards, "Go, bring forward the Scourge aberrations!"

To my dismay, I watch as the figures shift towards the crowd. To my horror, I watch as they reach out, pulling undead from the crowd like fruit from the vine. The undead fight, but the sheer number of robed men pull them from pack. Other citizens attempt to aid, but they are pushed back.

I cannot believe this is happening. I cannot believe they are doing this!

"Chromie!" I shout as loud as possible, but she does not flinch! "Chromie!"

"Stop them!" A citizen cries loudly. "Do not let them do this!" Another howlers. "Help me! Help me!" A third, undead figure yells as she is pulled from the mass.

I watch, almost stunned as they are allowed to continue. "Chromie!"

Again, but nothing. She simply stands, glaring at the horrors below. Undead are dragged, kicking and shouting, to the stage. The living claw and thrash at their friends. No one is stopping them.

"Do not fear, my brothers and sisters, the light of the living will guide us!" The speaker throws his arms to the sides, "The darkness of the undead must be revealed. It must be shown and purged fully!"

He stands, headed tilted back, arms extended to the sides, palms to the skies, as if he is a god. But...one man knows this supposed "hero" can bleed.

"I will not tolerate you in my lands, Great Divider!" A green flash explodes from the corner of my vision, "Let me show you the true power of what haunts your dreams!"

A robed figure shoots across my vision, slamming into the stage before falling to the ground. Another explosion bursts brightly, followed by an array of screams. A pair of robed minions tumble through the air, howling as they collide back to the earth.

The man on the stage twists, glaring at the furious figure plowing through his followers. The man's face contorts, forming an expression of confusion and frustrated. I see his mouth open, and barely hear him speak over the roaring crowd.

"Darion."

Another explosion rips into the pack before the true hate, the true vanquisher shouts to the wind.

"YOU WILL KNOW TRUE DARKNESS, SAYLEM!" Darion's enraged voice travels across the skies, rumbling like rolling thunder.

Oddly, a malicious smirk molds on the speaker's face.

"Stop him!" The man known as Saylem points in the direction of the Death Knight, "Bring the heathen to me!"

More robed figures dart across the stage.

Screams of agony echo from the now visible, uncontrolled beast that is Darion. Shouts of desperation ring loudly just feet from me, as an undead man continues to be drawn from the crowd.

Like hell!

I reach out, grabbing the figure by his arm. He shoots a glance at me, as does the robed figure pulling him. But it is another one that attempts to dislodge me. A heavy, cloth covered hand wraps around my outstretched arm.

"We will not tolerate interference! Even by the living!"

My eyes divert to the man gripping my arm. A surge of heated energy fills my veins. A cascade of focused power draws to my free arm. Without thinking, my left arm shoots to my back, gripping the handle of shovel. Just as equally it recoils, bring the spade with it.

The man flinches as I readjust the weapon in my hand, drawing it forward.

_THUD_

The metal vibrates. Blood gushes from the figure's face, as the spade bounces from the man's head. Hands attempt to hold back the fluid, but I shattered his nose. He stumbles backwards, and I move forward.

My eyes focused on the prior robed fool.

Fear spreads across his face. Horror clutches his claws, forcing them to release. He turns to run, but he won't be going anywhere with a busted knee. I drag my spade back, and…

_THUD_

He falls to his knees, yelping a high-pitched sign of anguish. His side rolls to the earth as he grips his wounded leg. Sissy.

_You tell him! You should hit him again, for effect!_

I smirk, but that quickly fades.

"Those who aid the dark deserve no life!"

From the corner of my sight I see a robed figure lurch backwards, bent arm at the ready. I only have time to turn my head before he readies the assault.

"Light guide…" He begins ejecting his arm, but stops short, "Aahhhh!"

He jerks to his legs, and I too am forced to glance. There, ripping into his leg, straight through the robe, is none other…than Squeals.

Promptly he reaches down, grabbing the tiny friend. He rips it from his flesh, pulling it to his chest. She bites at him, but he keeps his hands free.

"Stupid little beast!" He rolls his hand into a fist, preparing to strike the tiny fighter.

My shovel drags backwards, both hands needed for this.

"This way, big man!"

His eyes shift just in time catch full glimpse of a perfect baseball swing.

_THUD_

His body twists, blood leading his violently jerking figure. The hood falls from his head, revealing a now battered face. He tumbles limply in the direction of the swing, all strength faded from his body.

Squeals falls from his hands, and promptly scoop her up and toss her to my back. I feel her shuffle and crawl her way into my pack. She vibrates, but I do not think it is out joy.

I look back forward, noticing a perfect clear path ahead of me. My legs guide forward. My feet shuffle through the grass. My lungs expand and contract rapidly. My heart drums a beat of perfection.

In a flash, I dart to the stage, pull myself up and aim for the scourge of this riot. Standing on the side of the stage now, he watches as Darion is dragged across the open field by at least a dozen figures.

"Do not worry, Darion!" The figure throws one arm forward, while the other hangs at his side, "Even you shall be cleansed!"

Enough of this!

Speeding across the stage, I pull my shovel back, aim precisely, and direct my thoughts properly. He draws closer, still oblivious to my assault. Shovel lowers, all focus upon his skull.

Closer.

Arms at the ready.

Only yards away!

"What a shame," He turns, glaring at me. Impossible, "To think someone can be so blind. So careless."

His arm shoots upwards, a metal object gripped in his hand. My heart stops. My muscles lock. All movement ceases. My eyes…draw down the barrel of the small cannon…

I did not see that before. I did not…know…

"I will not be stopped. Not with the final key so close at hand."

The hammer draws back. I watch the metal glisten, the dull light reflecting off the many mechanics of the weapon. I stare down down the black, dark chamber. The circular design holds the path to that which is death. It is here, basking in the moment that seems to drag on forever, that I grow numb.

"I will be free."

His hand grips tighter. His fingers flick. He couldn't possible be thinking of doing...

It is then, as he narrows his vision, and the barrel quakes before me face, that I feel a revelation sweep over me.

"Forgive me, brother."

His finger squeezes, the hammer drops.

I now know why Darion doesn't speak of Saylem.

_TITHBURSH_


	9. Chapter 7: Guns and Smoke

"_Death doesn't scare me. But those who dare tamper with its design do…"_

_Kel'Thuzad, a year before falling under the sway of the Lich King.

* * *

_

"ENOUGH!"

Chromie's voice overwhelms the traveling boom of the gun. Her voice, however, is not enough to dull the situation. Her voice is not enough. So I wait, impatiently, for the impact. I wait, depressingly, for the end. But, for some reason, I do not think it is coming. Not now, anyway.

"Cutie!" She shouts at me, "I am so sorry!"

My eyes open, but I dare not look at her. An object of short distances holds my focus strong. Inches from my face, inches from the epicenter of my existence, is a small, glistening, gray pebble. As I gawk at it, lost in this moment in time, I almost instantly decipher its origin. I almost instantly discover its purpose…

A bullet…

"I didn't think the idiot was actually going to do it!" A pressure builds below my knee, but I cannot take my eyes off this…round. "Please, please, please, forgive me!"

She didn't think he would do it? Sadly, demoralizing, depressingly, for the first time ever, Chromie…you are sadly mistaken. I have no idea what your futuristic visions entailed, but it obviously did not involve me getting the front of my face vaporized.

Reality, however, begged to differ. Part of me desires to send the tip of my toe between your eyes, but the rest…the rest knows damn well of your intentions.

But that is not important. No, only the circular orb, built hastily to end life with speed even greater, controls my thoughts know. You, Chromie, are going to have to take a back seat to the rage before me…

_You need to relax. You know she wouldn't let you get hurt._

Yeah. Maybe you are right. But…this projectile is just that persuasive…

_You know she always protects you._

My head is still in one piece.

_You need to turn to her and squeeze her back._

Her tiny yelps remind me of a squeals. And, in turn, remind me of innocence and the desire to cuddle something…

You can do it!

My eyes shift in their sockets, but I do not move an inch. Just barely, I can make out the tiny gnome hugging my leg. I want to move and comfort the miniature figure, but…

_You would rather stand here…staring at a floating, metal, death bringer?_

Good point.

Without wasting a second, I jerk down, and grasp the tiny figure in my hands. My body wobbles in its stance. Blood sprints to the top of my head, throwing me into a weak situation. It darts back out, giving me the time necessary to upright myself.

Throwing myself upwards, I drag the small female along for the ride. Fingers grip her waist, spanning almost a complete circle around her entire torso. Nervous muscles twitch, vibrating gently for both of us to feel.

Tiny eyes pierce my soul, filling it with sadness and understanding. Tiny teeth arrange a perfect picture. Curse you, Chromie. Curse you, and your adorable demeanor!

Butterfly kisses float before her gentle words.

"So I take this as your forgiveness?"

I can only manage a weak nod and a subtle blink.

"Thank you, Cutie!"

She claps her tiny paws and squeals delightfully. Oddly, though, her smile fades to a neutral appearance and she clears her throat. It would appear something displeasing has crossed her mind…

"I was just trying to see what Saylem was up to! I didn't want anyone to get hurt! I swear!" She grabs both my index fingers within her tiny clutches, "I had to catch him the act, that's all. I promise. I promise!"

I gawk at her, motionless. Honestly, I believe every word she speaks, but a terrible mixture of dizziness and fear clings heavily on my flesh. I feel my eyes drift from the gnome and over to the metal again. Maybe it's this bullet…

It is then she squeaks and speaks again.

"Cutie, could you," her head turns towards the bullet, "move me a bit closer to it?"

I blink twice before twisting my entire body. She spins towards the pebble, coming inches from it. Her tiny paw extends out, touches the bullet, and to my excitement, it flashes before vanishing into thin air.

I suddenly release a pocket of tense air. Then, after take a deep breath, I look at her.

"Thank you, Chromie."

She giggles, but I cannot get the metal round out of my head. That very second. He actually pulled the trigger. What was he thinking? What was he planning afterwards? Oh no…

Darion…

My head pivots. Suspended in his prior moment, is Saylem. Smoke clings onto the air, as if the gun was halted instantly after firing. A prefect display of his guilt, idiocy, and anything else you dare lather upon his mentally-hindered self.

To his side, and to the ground, gathers the robed assembly; a minuscule distance from them is an assaulting mob. Draped figures are clutched by dozens of denizens wearing an expression of utter hate for their frozen moment. It would seem Saylem's act rallied the crowd in the wrong way…

Shifting my optics, I peruse the crowd for Darion. Fortunately, the Death Knight has a knack for making his presence is known. His face is locked on me, his mouth agape, stretched to the fullest extent possible. The epitome of unbridled rage etched into flesh.

Flowing in a ring around him is a mesh of red, black, and other shades that I cannot truly describe. Robed men lean backwards, as the wall of energy knocks them from Darion's body. It would seem…Darion was not too pleased by Saylem either…

"Cutie, you still there?"

Abruptly, I break from my thoughts. My sight roams back to Chromie, of who braces a smile for my delight.

"I know this is a very…invigorating moment, but…" her smiles fades, "could you do me a favor?"

I try to open mouth, but decide to nod my head instead. I just do not feel…capable…of speaking right now.

Chromie, however, is full of talk.

"Well, I am about to get very, very angry. And well, " she smiles again, "and I would rather not have you see it. K, Cutie?"

All I can do is stare at her, hoping to convey signs of my confusion. Thankfully, she catches on quickly.

"You wouldn't like me when I am angry, Cutie. And I like you…liking me…k?"

Again I nod. An awkward fancy floats in, filling the void of silence with the density of uncertainty.

"Cutie? Put me down, please."

A brief pause.

"Ok."

She stares at me.

"Cutie, start walking?"

I blink twice, a strong sense of confusion and nausea still strangling my thoughts. Then, once I am able to compose myself enough, I speak.

"Ok."

My weightless body jerks up and down in efforts to display agreement. Diverting from the stage, I march forward. I am not sure where I am going, nor what I am going to do, but…I really couldn't care less.

I just walk.

I walk down a large, curved road. I walk aimlessly, seeking whatever dares guide. After a minute or two, I notice the gap in the wall, and I walk to it. There, I throw myself up and jump to the ground. A second later, I march across the hard, dead grass.

I just walk…

Slowly I relax as I stride onto the gravel path. A familiar path. A familiar route. But, for some odd reason, I do not feel like traversing the traditional. My eyes dart forward, towards a barn in the distance. I haven't been there before.

I take a deep breath, pausing briefly to scratch my rather tense chest. As I move, I cannot help but feel a strange anxiety creep over me. I take a breath again, and am forced to rub my tight chest another time. That moment must have been more traumatizing than a thought…

Then, as if on cue, a deep, enraged voice rolls from behind. I twist, gawking back to the city, hoping that I may get a glimpse of the one shouting. I cannot make out what he is saying, but its ring bears only hatred. Is that Darion? No, no…that voice is different…

That couldn't be Chromie, could it? Nah, she is…a she…duh…

_You never know._

Suddenly, a sharp pinch snaps at my chest, and the borders of my vision pulsate. I grab the sides of my head, trying to contain the unexpected barrage of quaking. What in the world?

The sensation lingers for a few seconds before fading to nothing. That was weird. I pull myself back up, and shake my head at the uproar back in town. Go easy on them, Chromie.

I smile, and turn back around. Instantly, the joy vanishes…

Ahead of me, a field of trees rest. They cover the area where the barn once was. Each one stands taller than previously thought. Each one holds firmly, thicker and stronger than previously imagined. Each one exists…a green hue meshing within their bark…

How could I have been so stupid?

I spin back. A few feet from me is massive shrub, towering taller than I, and spreading wide for yards. No longer visible is a city. No longer visible is Andorhal. How could I have been so dense?

Green borders return. A haze of emerald fills the once tan glow. Light jade consumes ever inch of reality. Unfortunately, all sense of security, safety, and tranquility dissipate into nothingness.

I am here…in the fantasyland again. Wonderful…

Deeply I sigh. Looks like I better gain my bearings. My eyes survey the nearby terrain. Tall trees and heavy bushes block most of my sight. A few breaks in the foliage are visible, but not significant enough to allow any sight or give any guidance. As I sweep the trees, I do notice something odd about them.

Their green tint is rather…lacking. It is there, yes, but…the trees bear more of their original colors than the ones in Eastern Plaguelands. Strange. I wonder what it means?

_You may not want to wonder_.

Again, I sigh, but this time, a sense of frustration clutches me. Why now? Why…right now? Couldn't it have waited a few more minutes?

Rage consumes me, and an uncontrollable force pulls me forward. My feet stomp the ground heavily, physically expressing my displeasure. Gah! I hate it here! I reach forward, tugging at the stupid bush. I hate this green pasture of torture.

Angrily, I heave to my left, aiming for a gap positioned near a large tree. This place brings nothing but anguish. I hate you, fantasyland! I hate…

"Welcome!"

My legs freeze. Blood within my veins turns to ice. Muscles buckle throughout my body. Someone is here. Someone is shouting to me! I dare not look. I dare not move…

"Welcome, grand Protectors." The low-pitched, rather gentle, yet menacing voice rolls from beyond this tree ahead of me.

I take a breath and attempt to regain my composure. Hope, whoever he is, he obviously isn't talking to you. Unless, of course, he is talking to you and your voice. No…no, that cannot be it.

Feeling creeps back into my body, and I uncontrollably pull myself to the tree.

"Do you like what I have done with the place?"

I brace my body on the bark, and pull my head to the side.

"Why must you Night Elves be so…unsociable?" I catch sight of a tall, bulky figure looming above three kneeling men, "All I desire is for a simple conversation, yet you merely gawk, void of all personal connection."

Night Elves? Yes, those are what those three kneeling figures look like. Long ears, painted faces, exactly like the tall figure back in the Eastern Plagues. These, however, are not the same man. They have different face paint, and matching outfits. Almost like uniforms…

The cheery personality, however, I cannot make out. His cape consumes the bulk of his form, except for the metal helm glistening above it. Oddly, the said drape seems to shake and quiver, as if quaking unnaturally. It tugs and dances in all directions, wafting and bending as if some unfelt wind is playing beneath it.

The movement isn't very dramatic, and if you didn't focus on it, you probably wouldn't notice. However, the portion that drags upon the ground is rather noticeable. It seems to cling to the dirt, the circular borders of the fabric expanding and contracting across the dark soil.

If I didn't know any better…the solid black cape is one giant shadow.

I lean out a bit further, examining the terrain for more anomalies of the sorts. Sadly, as I pull my entire chest out from behind the tree, I feel my legs lock, and my jaw lower. Standing a short distance from the four of them…is a wall.

An enormous barricade, constructed not of brick and stone, but of materials vastly more terrifying. Before me are men clad in black, the blocks of this massive field of darkness. Before me are blades, long and glistening, the mortar for unity. A field of soldiers. A wall...

It is…an army…

I pull myself to the bark, clutching its flesh mercilessly. Bewildered orbs scan the focused soldiers, taking in their true form. Each one is the exact same as the last, covered in solid black armor, a heavy, dark cape flowing behind their armored, bulky shapes.

The plate upon their flesh is thick, adding a great deal of girth to their appearance. Rivulets are carved into various locations throughout the armor, and, like Darion, a pulsating glow changes from black to gray and vice a versa.

Red is the only unique shade to their dreary appearance. That, of which, flows as smoke from their helms. It drifts from the vertical, thin slits, and crawls outward from the horizontal slots, carvings for their unholy sight. Coiling upwards, it climbs to the skies, burning the air.

I follow the smoke, and find myself locking upon a tall, floating banner. A sheet, crafted of a dull black, is the backdrop for the main symbol. A black glove reaches upward, three fingers curled upwards, while two curl towards the palm. Encircling it is a spiraling, black cloud.

"Oh the sorrow, oh the despair!" The dark figure lures my mind back, "How can such wanted companions pain me so?"

His cape ripples gently.

"All I ask for is…a simple chat!" His voice oscillates, as if filled of misery, "All I ask is for a brief, fleeting dialogue composed of more than little old me..."

Vision stays squared upon the dark figure. Night elves gaze emotionless upward. A lost gravedigger glares confusedly. He stands amongst an ocean of green, near a sea of black. He stands watching as the figure clutches his head in his palm. He stands…mesmerized by the sudden tremor of the shadowy cape.

Its borders dance playfully, twisting and bending as a majestic dancer dare do. They break the boundaries of their former shape, creeping unnaturally upon the firm soil. Crawling across the earth, the cape drawing outwards like smoke from a gun.

From a gun…

Saylem's gun. But he is not here. He is not in sight. Hope, that is a recent memory, a moment lost in the past. However, its teachings seem to hold strong. Its lessons bear repeating…

Once again, I find myself upon a stage, this time of a phantasmal land, built within my own head. Once again, I find myself rushing headlong, if only within the confines of my mental playground. Once again, the gun is raised, but this time its barrel stares not at me.

"What a terrible shame." He shake his head, disappointment painting each of his words, "Look what you are going to make me do?"

The shadows curl further towards the unsuspecting figures. They sneak, void of attention, but full of devastation. It is the smoke to the gun. The bang to the cannon. The beginning to the end…

A gun…

"Truly disappointing." His words boom louder than any blasting weapon.

A dark gun…

How long until it shifts? How long before it spins, the passageway of destruction greeting with the booming roar of acceptance?

I fear that is only the beginning of something much worse. That I dodged one bullet upon the platform of Andorhal to stumble back into the illusionary path of another…


	10. Chapter 8: Shattered Boundaries

*****Story formally known as "The Last God."*****

**Sorry about the title changes, foolish of me to randomly alter it after 10 chapters. So it is back to the original, but yet slightly different. Once again, reviews, alert posts, or anything to see the fan base grow would be appreciated, or at least something to let me know what I might be doing wrong -- I can take constructive criticism, I am a big boy.**

**Thanks again to all those still following and supporting this story. It is with you guys that I feel motivated and inspired to keep writing this. Virtual cookies for all of you! Mmmmm, smell delicious.**

**Anyway, here is the next installment.**

**Enjoy.**

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"_Run away, little girl! Run away."_

_An illusion amongst the halls of Karazhan._

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"Why must you be so stubborn?" His voice hides a subtle rage beneath it, "Why…?"

He leans back, adjusting his shoulders. As he does, the black sheet upon his back quivers gently, as if a vertical breeze sweeps across it, pressing it inwards and down.

"Truly, disappointing."

My stomach churns as the cloak's borders activate, caressing the earth as they expel outwards. Elongated strips of solid black extend, sweeping across the ground.

Strangely, the figure begins to laugh. He secretes a demonic chuckle. The elves before him continue to glare, their care for his display naught. They need to stop focusing on the fool! He is distracting them! He is luring them from the true threat!

Unexpectedly, he stops, throwing his body forward in attempts to frighten the three figures.

"If only you cooperated. If you your brash reasoning would comprehend the nature of our design!"

The tenebrous character pounds his chest.

"Together, we could have broken the gates of your feeble Guardian." The top of his helm shifts back in forth, displaying disappoint. "Together, we could have ruled this world…"

My eyes lock upon the growing shadowy cover. The stygian form of the cape rolls from the figure, like waves upon an ocean. They cling close to the ground, and the Night Elves do not see. They cannot…I must warn them.

_YOU WILL NOT DO A THING._

Ok…ok…

_You will not move an inch…_

My eyes simply watch, in horror, as the visible side of the man's cloak extends to the left Elf, as if living. My eyes simply gaze, as another stretching portion appears next to the Elf on the right. The malevolent fabric draws a crescent around the three.

"Crafted an iron fist for the mindless masses…"

The shadows stop,. They curl upwards, flicking the air as if testing some unseen water. Tiny tendrils grow from the edges, clawing at the skies like a dozen, misshapen fingers. They reach for the elves. They hunger…

"We could have smothered the world in shadows…"

Daring blades, constructed of charcoal, flicker inches from the elves. The eyes of the left figure catch sight of the trembling tendrils. If only it wasn't too late…

"Together…as…brothers."

Lashing outward, the edges of the cape slam into the two side figures. The darkness envelops their now thrashing bodies. They make to scream, but the thick, ooze like substance consumes their arms, legs…and body…fully. They become trapped in the cape…their every expression, their every movement, visible beneath the black mold that forms to their bodies.

Once the two are devoured wholly, the sinister assault continues, targeting the last man. They latch to his body, progressing in the same manner as the two prior.

It is then that the deleterious dealer, bearing the dark cover, releases a sound of despair…as if what he does pains him.

"This didn't have to happen this way…" He straightens his posture, "But to say I don't enjoy every, single moment…every contorted expression, every mangled face…well, then I'd be a liar."

He cackles.

"And I wouldn't lie to you. Brother."

Launching upward, the tendrils twist and wrap upon lone warrior's head. The elf is lost in the sea of black. All that remains is the marauding darkness, clinging to every inch of all three. All that remains…is the tenebrous cackling of the twisted figure. All that remains are their twisting bodies, their faces fully visible, and their expressions building haunting memories in my head.

The dark figure's head tilts backwards, allowing escape of his malicious laughing. His body quivers, showing the utter enjoyment of their agony. His form quakes, expressing the truth behind his words…

Then, once the noxious figure is fully satisfied, the shadows recoil, ripping from their victims. It takes a second for the cape to mold to its original, flowing shape. It is then my stomach bubbles wildly…and panic flows readily.

Left in the wake of the attack are the three elves, their bodies warped, their flesh as dark as coal. Once decorative armor molds to their body, making the difference between the natural flesh and cancerous evil near impossible to detect. And their faces…are mangled beyond belief…

Black flames lick from grotesque faces, dancing a sinister beat with each twist and bend. All that remains of their true faces are red embers of eyes. Almost as if they have become nightmares of their former selves…

Almost as if they have become something beyond their original capabilities…

"Our bonding is complete!" His arms raise horizontally to his sides, "Not much of a conversation, but still a glorious ending!"

Metallic limbs rotate forward, palms tilted to the skies, beckoning to those before him, "Now rise, soldiers of the dark. Rise, and bear the gifts I so willingly bestow upon you. Rise…Marauders of the Ancient Dream."

Obediently, the three stand, their prior sense of defiance all but naught. They stand tall, a dark form of what they once were. Blood chills beneath my flesh. Thoughts break boundaries, fluttering wildly into cluttering pile-ups. Fingers built of frost tickle my spine…

I have to get out of here…

_You must do so…carefully._

I take a step back, carefully.

"Today, Protectors, the end begins!" The dark, sinister being shouts.

Another step.

"Today, the armies descend upon your weary defenses!"

A third step is taken, and the figure fades behind the tree. Oddly, something clings to my sole, and makes it hard to place my foot…

"Today, my armies march! March for…"

My foot forces its way to the ground.

_SNAP_

No! The twig crackles loudly beneath my foot. Sweat builds across my brow. Pools of unseen liquid agitate beneath my ribcage. A pump works to breaking between a pair of pulsing airbags.

Run…

Without hesitating, I spin. Fearful legs guide me to flight. A panicked head rotates, lagging behind the rest of me. I must get out of here. I must hide, I must get somewhere safe. My head swings completely, matching my fleeing body. I must escape quickly, before he…

Catches…me…

Before me, looms a bulky, stygian figure. A thick, black cloak folds over the man's shoulders, but does not hide the front of his form. Dark armor glistens, the shade of black fading and glowing as if a traveling light rolls across it.

A heavy glove shoots from his body, colliding with my neck. Mighty muscles tense, lifting me from the ground. My arms lock upon the cold, unfeeling metal that is his hand. I am unable to delay my ascension. I am unable to prevent him from gripping me a foot over his head.

I do not know how he got here. I do not know how he appeared. All I know is he is here. And all I can do is stare, terrified, at the armored figure. Stare down at his black, iniquitous form. Stare at the heavy helm that is hiding his true face from my optics.

Two, rectangular holes are carved in the front of his faceplate, allowing for a pair of piercing, sinister globes to glare at me. Oddly, light passes with ease through the holes, illuminating his ominously calming eyes. Dark metal rolls up and over his head, forming three blades that curve to the back of his skull.

Lowering from the carvings is more of his said helm, building a cover for his nose. However, it stops short of his mouth, forming an array of short, thin, downward pointing spikes. The flat spines run over his upper-lips but stop short of his mouth.

Another set of flat spikes jut upwards from a piece of metal that cascades down the side of his maw and molds onto his lower jaw. These spikes, however, start at the bottom of his chin and end at the bottom of the lower-lip. Beneath them, visible, brown hair is exposed. A metallic mouth over a normal human's maw.

"Seems we have a lost pup." The metal blades shift as he speaks, "What could it possibly be doing so far from home?"

The dark voice rattles my being. Strangely, though, it is not what I was expecting. When the Lich King held me this way, his normally distant voice became foreboding, more sinister up close. But his…is gentler, as if tempting me to listen.

He laughs suddenly, and I cannot take my eyes from his quivering jaws. The metallic maw, molded upon the true form, bear the true nature of this being, yet they are not his ultimate identity. Darkness above that which is light…

"And I thought I was the only human capable of traversing the boundaries of the dream." He rotates me, as if perusing the sides of my head, "Tell me, how did you get here?"

Silence. I dare not speak.

"Another being incapable of speech?" He sighs, "It's the mask, isn't it?"

Heavy shoulders slump forward. Thick plates shift below a horizontally oscillating head.

"I knew it was too malevonent in design." Piercing orbs strike at my soul, "All I really wanted was a simple design. No spikes, no dark additions. A peaceful construct."

Flesh curls to a smirk beneath the metal, "Matching my personality."

Uncomfortably, he bats his eyelashes, as if trying to lure me into his rather disturbing conversation. At this point, I would have retorted cleverly…but…no need…

He sighs.

"I see you did not find the humor in that, eh, pup?"

Strange light rolls across his faceplate, as if unnatural illumination rolls across it.

"Disappointing…"

My eyes lock with his. All thoughts upon his face, the alluring call of his malicious mouth behind the dark maw too difficult to resist. I cannot shift my sight. I cannot detour my current vision!

Suddenly, a sharp pinch assaults the side of my skull. My eyes dart downward, catching sight of the growing shadow.

Oh no. Ok, Hope, do not panic. A tall, sinister being has a vital portion of your body in his clutches, and the dark call of death is looming beneath you.

_You need to say something. You need not end like the ones before you._

Yes, let me see if I cannot bring about a new outcome. Wriggling in his fist, I position my throat so I can speak. A harsh, cracked version of my voice radiates from my throat, but, nonetheless, it is still mine.

"I don't know."

He stops, his eyes lock firmly on my face. Just barely, I can see him squint.

"What?"

I fidget beneath his fingers.

"How…how…I got here."

He gazes at me. His eyes scan my face, absorb in my expression, my sight, all of it. He turns his head, eyebrows lowering. Our character is attempting to decipher my demeanor. Abruptly, he recoils to his original stance…and laughs…

"You don't know? Remarkable!" He shakes my body, "And best of all, you show no signs of lying!" He cackles, "How does one not know how…"

Oddly, all laughter ceases. A serious expression sweeps his visible flesh, and I feel him twist me again. He turns me to the left then to the right. As he does, a strange pain rolls from the side of my ear and travels up my skull.

What is he looking for?

"Impossible…" he barely whispers, "It cannot possibly be…"

I flinch as he drags me to his face. I wince, as the pain intensifies. What is he doing to me?

"IT is!" He cackles again, "You are it!"

He lifts me higher. The pain escalates.

"The vessel of our ascension!" He shakes me, "My master will be pleased!"

Painfully, his fingers tighten. Agonizingly, my head throbs. The world grows blurry.

"The Earth-Warder will be delighted to hear of my discovery! Ha!" He chuckles before becoming uncomfortably joyful, "Falling right into my hands. Almost perfect."

It is then I see his cloak ripple, as if a vertical wind descends upon it. Just as it had done prior.

"What a shame, though. What happened to you and all.." My eyes catch sight of the rolling shadow growing beneath me. "Legs crushed by the Titan's constructs."

Darkness extends for my twisting feet.

"Arms broken by Marauder sword fights." His eyes drift to an object at my side before locking back upon me, "Or, well, shovel fights, but…you get the picture."

Iniquitous tendrils lick at my soles, hungering for what awaits them.

The tendrils crawl upwards. My heart rolls rapidly. My body quakes violently. The pain grows wildly.

"Left as a mere shell of man."

An inch from my body is the cape, crawling upon the wind as if a latter built for such evil. All while a batter surge of pain assaults my being.

"Odd, though, even as a carapace of a being, you are beyond importance."

Long, black fingers grow from the extended reach. He is trying to distract me. He is trying to hide me from his plans. But the pain draws me from his face and to his shadows. The torture rolls across my mind. Yet this pain…I remember it…I have experienced it before. It isn't him...it is something else...

"Even as a limp, near lifeless form, you shall reshape this world."

Almost upon me, the shadows lurk. But the familiar pain gives me a sense of calming…it is her...

"Come now, Vessel, let us…bond."

A smirk forms on his, but fades as one appears on me. The shadows make to strike, but are thwarted by my calm appearance. It would seem he does not know why I am so cheerful, so joyful.

"What are you smiling about, pup?"

I say nothing. Instantly, the next wave of pain batters my being. With it, an unbearable onslaught of anguish overwhelms me, forcing my eyes shut.

I can hear his voice fade in the distance, but my closed eyes bask in the glorious darkness of my own mind.

"What magic is this? How are you doing this? " It dulls further. "You said you didn't know how!"

My hand lifts, palm facing outwards. I can still feel his grip, but his voice travels.

"I will not lose this opportunity!"

My fingers roll up and down, throwing the man a proper farewell.

A distant, disgruntled bursts from his throat before the faint words float, "How dare you, you…"

Before he can finish his statement, I chuckle, silencing him immediately, allowing for one word. My last word…

"Bye."

And with a deep black pulsation, it is gone. All of it is gone.

Instantly, pressure returns across my back, and a strange tugging pulls at the side of my head. I open my eyes, letting the sweet, tan light bath my vision. I sigh, letting the sharp pinching comfort me.

Raptor, you have no idea how much I love you right now.

Rolling my head, I gaze at her, and, like before, she lets go and commences licking my face. I laugh, letting each lick shower me with security and safety. I throw my hands on her, shaking the tiny figure with delight.

"Squeals, I swear, I am going to rub your belly until your leg breaks off!"

I feel her vibrate, filed with delight. She wriggles beneath my fingers, joy fueling her body at this moment. But I must move her, picking her up and placing her a few inches from my head. Scooting backwards, I drag myself up and into sitting position. I sweep my surroundings, and sigh loudly.

"Squeals, I am not a fan of these plains." I give her a shake, "But it definitely isn't as horrible as that green hellhole."

She emits a high-pitched chirp, and I am willingly forced to squeeze the tiny pet. My fingers flicker at the edges of her tummy, and I flip her to her back. Tiny jaws shoot inward, nipping at my assaulting hands. But she is mine!

"I got you! You tiny menace!" I chuckle, watching our shadows play as joyfully as we do, "You cannot escape me, little Squeals!"

She chirps joyfully, while complete relaxation brings a settled moment to this stressed form. My hands roll her to her side, letting the tiny clouds of black around her stretch and rock with her.

"Oh no, the mighty cape of darkness will get you!"

Again, sounds of delight and pleasure radiate from the tiny fighter, but the sheer enjoyment seems is lost in the unnatural movement near her feet. I feel my hands slow, and my mind drift as elongated shadows twist oddly.

"Squeals," orbs of curiously align upon the shifting blotches, "I don't think you woke me fully..."

I follow the dark patches below the orange tail as they grow outwards, as if the sun is setting at a rapid pace. They continue to expand, crawling across the ground in a way only a lost mind dare conjure.

No way. This is not happening. But my heart sinks and all sense of logic fails as the stretching shadows passes by my leathery shoe…revealing the same occurrence from my own shade.

Ice clogs my veins. Muscles clench in rapid fashion. Lungs contract and fill at speeds undesired. All while the shadows continue to grow. All while I watch. All while I gaze…uselessly.

This cannot be happening…

My shadows expand, extending in the same direction as Squeal's. I follow it, trying not to lose it. This is all a lie! It is trying to disturb my being! I will must not let it! I must stop it!

I lurch forward, throwing my fists at the soil.

"Stop!" My throat expels frustration, "Stop tricking me! You are not real!"

Fingers dig futilely at the hard soil, flecking flesh and chunks of earth with each scrape. But they do not listen. They continue moving, expanding towards some unknown location. Hands fly forward further, reaching for the end of the darkness…

But what I find brings nothing but an array of uncomfortable, unpleasing trickles down my spine. My hand smashes into the dirt, stopping directly in the core of a dark circle. The edges of my palm turn dark black, as if light itself is fleeing the scene.

Terrifyingly, the ring around my hand increases. No no no! I remove my hand from the soil, but it is too late. The circle expands, rapidly growing before my very eyes. Shuffling backwards, I pull to my feet and stand in a slumped position as shadows from all objects nearby draw inward towards this swirling mess.

Trees, bushes, shrubs, distant barns, vessels of all sorts feed the hungering pool. Long, stretched tendrils crawl across the ground, convening upon this one spot. And with each second, it grows…until it is massive pool, a bit wider than myself.

"You are not real!" Again, I scream.

I must be dreaming.

_You are not…_

Nervousness grips my being. Fear trickles through my veins. Muscles lax and my mind races. That cannot be. The world bends and warps. The reality I once knew seems lost and destroyed.

But it is in the recent voice, that all seems unreal…

"Oh, pup, I am more real than you ever dare imagine."

My arms snap in place. Squeals yelps, while my throat secretes a wince of pain. Eyes full of terror brace the darkness before me. The shadow elevates, creeping upwards unnaturally. Rounded edges form as it moves. A bulge forms upon the peak of the mound, revealing what I feared…

"I am far closer to you than you ever dare comprehend!" A dark, malicious chuckle assaults the very air around me, "And you know we all too well…"

Taller it grows, revealing a wafting border.

"Look to the darkness behind your light...."

Arms appear at the sides, thick and metallic.

"Bask in the shadows strangulating your very being…"

Legs form as the vertically expansion ceases, allowing for the mold to come into proper shape. All his body has form. All except for one, last portion...

"Heed the unyielding call…of fear."

A head, covered in dark, reflective armor, appears. The final piece to the horrifying visage.

"In them you find me! With them, many names and identities all mine!"

A bulky figure lurks before me. There he holds himself, glowing in the natural light of these lands. There he rests, a work of the darkest of art. There he towers, looming with intentions unknown yet fully visible. And there he stands…upon the same soil that Squeals and I both tread.

"But those who grown accustomed to my designs simply plead, beg, to the name...."

There he stands…not in the fantastyland, not in some distant plain…speaking again to bring assurance to his existence.

"...the Dark General."

There he stands…as true as his words…the Dark General.

He is no mere illusion. He is real…and he exists…in my world…


	11. Chapter 9: Nothing can stop it now

_**Hello all,**_

_**Just a side note, but I edited the last two chapters of The Gravedigger: March of the Fallen. I was disappointed in the last chapter, so I altered the part involving the specter's death and many of the poor sentences. Anyway, besides that, nothing new. And, for all the Jewish folk, I wish to you a happy fifth day of Hanukkah. And for it, I give to you...the beginning...**_

_**Enjoy!**_

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_"And to think...this world feels the Lich King is the greatest threat. Close your eyes Azeroth... true evil awaits here."_

_Talon Lord Joon, former commander of Malfurion Stormrage._

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Grass screeches, my foot scraping across its lifeless form. Dirt gasps, cracking beneath my reversing sole. Lungs howler rapidly, sucking and expelling murky air. A beat rolls from beneath a caged confine.

Keep moving backwards, Hope.

Friction holds to the bottom of the other foot as it draws rearwards. Muscles absorb adrenaline and anxiety equally. Sweat pools unorganized upon a focused brow. Oculars align upon a flowing cape, and the figure lurking behind it.

Air flows into my lungs heavily.

"What are you?"

Carbon dioxide ejects outward, invisible to the eyes. Invisible, unlike the crawling, swirling, spiraling cloud of noxious gases that are more than a mere cape.

"Capable of communication now, hmmm?" His steady arms bend upwards slightly, bearing the cascading darkness around them, like rolling water over a natural dam, "Though late it may be, a nice chat is always pleasant…"

Silky black material glides, intertwining between the figure's fingers. From here, I can feel the tenebrous smirk behind that fallacy of a mask. I, however, am not finished with him yet.

"You didn't answer my question. General."

Dark eyes lift, their malevolent gaze forcing my hairs to their ends.

"Do forgive me, pup." Shadows creep closer while my heavy feet shift further rearwards, "But I do believe I already explained who I am."

Another step from the being, but it is not fast enough. Dark folds dance quickly across the firm soil. They must be delayed. Think, Hope, think. You must stop them, or at least tamper their progression. I must keep him equally as distracted as he tries me.

_You should throw your shovel at him!_

I take a deep breath, my lungs crackling nervously upon doing so.

"Sorry, but I didn't ask 'who,' but 'what?'"

Darkness scraps only feet from my position. Suddenly, they are tampered. They slow, dancing menacingly, creeping forward at a snail's pace.

A deep, sinister cackle bounces from his throat. It would seem I drew some digression from the man.

"Well, that is a long, rather dull tale. Events ranging from mere travels to exciting, adventurous escapades!" The shadows halt completely, "But those are all stories of a man long past."

A full smile forms upon his face.

"Now, what remains is something more." Dark blankets ripple…hungrily, "Now, a stands before you man…"

Tenebrous clouds oscillate. They wish to feed.

"A very, very…powerful…man…"

His eyes burn my soul. His assaulters flicker.

"But I do detect disbelief upon your face," the cloak lurches backwards, recoiling to a proper striking position, "Let me show you, first hand, of the might I possess!"

Time slows. Reality flinches to the mere speed of the thrashing, shadowy lances. A malicious cascade of black shoots from his cape, quicker than my emotions even dares challenge. Fear even falters to the mere haste of the attack…

My eyes close. There is nothing else I can do…but accept my fate…

But, even with their remarkable speed, I do not feel the penetrating strikes, nor enveloping lashes. I, however, do hear fully the words emitted from his bewildered lips…

"What is this?"

Instantly, seals of flesh part, letting the sight absorb fully. A foot from my body, no less, stands the shadows, the darkness beyond compare. Twitching fingers, constructed of iniquitous patterns, flutter, stopped by something unseen. A solid blanket before my eyes, it's only desire…me.

"Maim the pup!" A mild sense of annoyance drips from his words, "Your master commands it!"

My eyes jump from own tendril to the next. How can they be stopped? What are you doing?

_You know I am doing nothing! You are…doing it?_

No way. I take in a deep breath. Maybe. I exhale. Slowly, carefully, my hand rises, reaching back to the fleshless fingers before me. I cannot possibly be doing this…

To my amazement, as my hand lifts, the folds of stygian design bend backwards, as if warded by my very presence. Further forward my hand reaches. Further rearward the mass backs. Impossible…

_You are Hope!_

"You pathetic powers are no match to mine," The clouds quiver, "I will not fail!" Metallic limbs shift, an angrier man pointing at me now, "You will be mine!"

All edges of his sinister design spirals, twisting in futile attempts to disembowel me. Yet, they are stationary, despite their raging oscillation, despite their apparent yearning. They want to destroy me, but they can't. He cannot harm me. He cannot harm me! Ha!

_You better not let it go to your head! You should do like Squeals!_

Shadows quake violently, their desire for my flesh well apparent.

"I will not be humiliated by a mere…PUP!"

Frustration grips his voice steadily now.

I, however, divert my sight from him, perusing my surroundings for the tiny raptor. All I can find are dancing shadows, tall trees, broken shrubs, and then a gravel path. It is there, leading a trail of dust and pebbles, is a tiny, orange, fleeing pet.

Good idea…

I make to move, but, before I dare sprint, I recall a recent memory. It is then a smile forms upon my face, and adjust my already forward facing hand. I tilt my palm towards the man, and curl my fingers downwards. With a smirk, I roll them vertically again and quietly emit.

"Bye."

As I turn, I catch glimpse of a frown form upon his face. As I begin running, I can feel eyes piercing my body. As I take to the gravel path, a sense of confidence and success caresses my veins.

"Insolent pup!" His voice booming, "How far do you think you will make it?"

Keep running, Hope! Let the crunching gravel and scraping stones be your only guide!

"How far, pup?"

Oddly, as I move, his voice does not dull, nor lessen with distance.

"I am the shadow, pup."

Movement in the corner of my eye draws my confident focus. Instantly, all strength and courage dims, replacing it anxiety and adrenaline. For standing near a distant tree, yards from my path, is the Dark General. How?

"I am the darkness…"

He shifts to the side of the vision as move, thankfully drawing from sight. I blink. Impossible. I divert most of my vision from my current pebble, lost in the stygian figure lurking near a tree I just passed. There is no way. He cannot possibly be there.

I blink.

To my dismay, he stands to a tree ahead of my route now. How…

"I am everywhere…"

Again he drags to the side of my vision. I blink. Gone. Finally, his illusion is over…

_You need to…stop!_

Without hesitating, internal brakes lock, slowing me uncontrollably. Turning vision pulls me from the tree line back to the gravel path. Looming before me is a bulky, black figure…a smirk lathered upon his face.

"Funny, how this game works." A gnarled fist extends towards me, only feet away now "You run, I chase. I chase, you run. Until finally…"

Mangled fingers reach outwards, "I catch you. In the end, I always do."

I make to run, but my legs dare not move. I make to duck, my body knows only his height. I make to flee, but there is nowhere to run. He will catch me, as he said…

"HOPE BLACKWOOD!"

A deep, familiar voice echoes from my left side. I do not look, but it is far too comforting to even begin ignoring.

"Five minutes alone and this?" The man shouts loudly, firmly.

The Dark General does not heed the friend's yells. Instead he smirks, his eyes only feasting upon me.

"Who might that be, pup?" His voice intensifies, as he speaks to both to me and the Knight, "A supposed hero, a weak, feeble man?"

The death knight yells louder, his honor challenged "Weak?" A teal hue sparks in the corner of my eye from the voice's direction, "Apparently you know nothing, fool!"

The ominous illumination grows, building upon the side of sight. It comes from the same direction as the voice, as the Knight.

"I am Darion Mograine! Highlord of the Ebon Knights!" A bright, green glare builds brighter in the left of my vision. "And you will know pain!"

A once proud smile fades. A once focused head of a mighty General turns. Dark eyes burn brightly, as the feeding green glow of Darion's design escalates with each passing millisecond. Then, as the entire front of the General glistens a fine, emerald hue, I believe I see a face…of…fear…

A grand explosion ripples from the General's side, sending sparks of black, jade, and white ejecting from the front of his armor. Whipping across my vision, the General is sent soaring. Hurriedly, I twist my head, watching the man glide backwards, limbs extended forward, his back leading.

A tree stops his movement, throwing the figure's limbs backwards as the rest of him collapses to the soil. I make to watch him lie there, but the Death Knight calls me.

"Hope!" I throw my sight at him. An intense glare focuses upon me, "Get going!"

He hurries across the gravel path. Feebly, I obey, taking only a few steps, watching the Knight as I do. His heavy armor shakes as he departs the route. His form stands firmly. He rushes past trees, only the fallen General his concern.

His weapon, a long, black handle, and a bluish, curved axe blade. In the center of the metal, between the curling blue smoke and trickling cold, is a large ram's head. The same symbol that Lich King bore as his identity. The same…as the one on his blade…Frostmourne.

This new blade, as Darion told me when he first let me bear its design, is known as…Shadowmourne. And when the Knight lets the weapon feast, this Lord of Shadows will do the name justice.

"Get up!" Darion tramples through the forest as the General climbs to his feet, "Get up so I can put you back to your knee!"

As Darion advances, the General glances upwards, his piercing eyes assaulting me once again.

"This game is beginning to anger me!" He pulls to his elevated stance, optics penetrating my sanity, "If it is numbers you desire!" A metallic fist glistens as it shifts upright. "Get the pup, Marauders! Bring him to me!"

It is then his sight finally diverts to Darion. A black blade forms from his shadows. His malicious cloak molds for him a twisted blade. A sinister weapon…crafted from the ominous clouds themselves…

"Come, Death Knight. Lets play."

I watch, with no care. I watch…as the two ready to engage.

_You need to run around!_

But Darion…

_You must duck! YOU WILL._

Swinging my body down and around, I move as if controlled by another. As I lower, a strange surge of air rushes atop my head. Strands of very head rustle and quiver. Cool winds batter my thin scalp.

Muscles pull backwards, dragging my body stumbling rearwards. Lost eyes direct forward, locking upon a thick, black suit of armor. Gray lines glow before fading to a dull black. Optics sweep vertically, coming to a large helm, red smoke burning from a "T" design molded into the man's face.

In his hands…a sweeping sword, the blade held to the side as if recently swung. It is one of the warrior's from my dream world. If I can defeat your mighty commander, then you are nothing!

_You tell him!_

However, as if he can read my thoughts, he arches his body, preparing an assault to counter my internal cries. Glistening metal springs forward, the edge targeted upon my feeble flesh.

Loudly he bellows, "Darkness comes!"

The warrior pulls the blade rearward, reaching the limits of his own pivotal nature. There the weapon holds firm, energy building within the deleterious foe's veins. But as he readies, I too tighten my muscles, ready my mind, and prepare my shade.

As he begins his attack, he shouts, "To the Dream I send you!"

His mighty blade hurls forward, its aggression asserted for me. An entirety of strength forced through the weapon, but even his speed is lacking. Hastily, I grip the wooden handle between my backwards-stretched fingers. Swiftly, I bend my knees, pulling my torso from harms way.

While I move, the spade twists in my palm, altering its direction for the darkened enemy before. Optics align with the sword arching towards me. Arms direct fuel to counterattack.

But it then…the unexpected throws me into a daze.

A forceful jolt rolls under my feet, breaking my stability. I stumble backwards, whipping my arms side to side. Fortunately, my free hand slaps against cold bark, and I pull myself to it, bracing my back upon its firm surface.

The world quakes, shivering beneath me. An earthquake?

_You know there are no earthquakes here. You do right? Because I don't…_

Ahead, a confused foe stumbles upon the gravel path. Even he is caught unprepared. Unfortunately for him, he is unable to find a shock absorber such as I. He wobbles to and fro, all his strength naught to the fury of an enraged planet. He twists and bends, attempting to stabilize himself in the sudden fury unleashed upon this shaking ground.

Finally he is able to find safety upon a nearby tree, rooting himself properly. But it is at that exact same moment in time the earth calms, returning to tranquility as prior. And it is with that opportunity that I hurl forwards, spade braced in my hands.

Fingers twirl the handle, spinning the tool across the palm. Arms lock upon the firm wood, lifting the instrument to my chest height. Barreling forward, I organize myself. As I come to the foe I halt, locking my feet firmly in place.

Dragging the weapon backwards, I hold the weapon as an item it is not – held like that of a spear. I let it dangle there momentarily, giving my enemy time to alter its focus upon me. Then, as the billowing red mask blares upon my intentions, I strike, the vertically altered blade lined with the "T".

Perfectly, the forced weapon glides upon the air, moving with due haste. It only tampers in speed upon clanking angrily against metal. It stops only to nestle between the metal frame of the enemy's visor. It only stops when its mission is complete…

I hold for a second, a smile forming upon my face. Then, forcefully, I tear the spade backwards, letting the red continue to pour from its natural construct. But this time, the ruby hue comes not as smoke alone, but as a fluid as well.

He wobbles feebly as I take a step backwards. Life trickles from his form as he tilts forward. Gravity clutches his weak form, pulling the once mighty to his knees. Death calls him to his final rest, luring his body to the ground. And with a grand thud, he is finished.

Sadly, as he slams upon the coarse ground, the planet stirs into raging again. Instantly I fall backwards, landing upon the same tree. As I do, the ground trembles violently, the very tree flinching to the spasm. This tremor is brief, lasting only a second.

And with its end, a new source of distraction comes into play.

Whipping across my vision is a blurred figure. Black appears in the left corner of my sight and swiftly shoots to the right, making its exit. I follow it, watching the black blur shoot to the gravel path. The bulk bounces once, twice, three times – a pebble skipping upon a lake.

It takes a second for the figure to come to a rest, a contorted man now visible. Black rivulets turn gray, then oscillate back to black. In his hands, a massive axe, a blue blade embedded in the firm soil, yet clutched within mighty fingers.

Darion…

Without hesitation, I sprint to him. At first I think him dead, but to my joy, he fidgets, wriggling upon his stomach. The blade drags across the soil as he pushes himself off his belly and to his knees.

"Darion!" I shout to him as I near his position, "Are you ok?"

Instantly, he lurches to his feet, twisting to face me. On his face is lathered an expression of concern.

"Hope, behind you!" His voice spits…fear…

Spinning, I make to see the strike. My oculars land upon thrashing blades of black magic. My eyes find tendrils of lashing, tenebrous fingers – shadows striking mercilessly.

But they forget who I am…

I twist my body, my chest confidently facing the shadowy onslaught. They whip angrily in our direction, but they shall not pass! Raising my hand, I order to them stop. And like before…they obey.

Again they lick the air, rage wafting from each twisting, bending spike. I smile as I watch them. Thwarted again. Darion, however, does not find this so comical.

"Hope!" Pressure builds upon my forearm, a new hand present, "What are you doing? Come on!"

Forcefully, he pulls at me, jerking me from my prior location. He rushes down the gravel path, no attention directed upon the foe behind us. If I didn't know any better, Darion…is running away…

"Darion," I take a deep breath in as we move, "Are you actually retreating?"

He turns his head gently, yet keeping his focus forward. He pants as he replies, "No, Hope, I am not retreating."

He takes a deep breath.

"I am merely advancing in a rearward manner!" He turns the side of his face to me, "A tactical maneuver of monumental…

Oddly, he twists his head completely. As he does, his expression mangles, turning to a horrific epitome of fear.

"LOOK OUT!"

He lets go of my arm, reaching for my face. Painfully, he drags my head down, forcing me into an uncomfortable position. I stumble upon my very feet, my eyes directed towards them unwillingly. It is then, as I gawk at my lumbering leather shoes, that a swift wind thrashes above my head.

It traverses the top of my skull, whipping down my neck in a hurry. It lasts only momentarily, and as it passes, Darion's hand recoils from the top of head. Instantly, I redirect my oculars.

Whipping across the sky, flipping end over end is a long, is a metallic blade. It moves as if hurled with force unmatched. And it slams, angrily, into the side of a slumping hill. Actually, that is a mountains side…

"Can you feel, pup?" An angry, cocky voice booms from behind, "Can you sense it?"

My focus lost, diverted backwards. Foolishly, I watch as a the General tramples the path before him. Recoiling back into his cloak is a third, lanky, mangled arm. A malicious claw, bony in design, pulls quickly back into his cape – the tool used to throw the blade of the warrior I killed.

"Can you feel the darkness?" His voice lures me from my wandering. "Can you, pup?"

He laughs manically. As he does, the ground tremors gently.

"Yes, you most definitely can!" The quaking increases, "Revel in it, pup! Bask in its grandeur!"

He marches forward, his giant, metal soles crushing the gravel path.

"It is the end, pup! It is the beginning!" He barrels forward, speed increasing with each step. "It is this planet's sundering..."

The General nears us, but his laugh, his voice, his very existence draws me upon him. With each step he takes, the ground quivers more intensely. Trees around him vibrate gently, their very roots quaking. Suddenly, a portion of ground near him gives me, shattering in its very spot. A portion of the soil lifts upwards, ripping from its once normal resting position -- it is like two chunks of rock are colliding together, one being forced upward.

Violently, a gush of furious steam ejects from the torn earth. It clings upon the air before drifting to the assaulting General. His demeanor is intensified as the water washes over him. And his word's glorified as they bellow from his dark lips.

"It is...the return of my master! The return..." more soil crackles, snapping around him, "of the Earth Warder!"

My body trembles in rhythm with the quaking ground. My heart rumbles off beat, faster and angrier. Lungs clutch and release painfully. Fear, anxiety, and all settle in. His words mean little, but the actions around him shatter my sanity with the buckling earth.

"Hope!" Again, Darion grabs me, "Enough gawking! Lets move!"

Without hesitation, I twist, following the knight as willingly as he allows. He aims down the same pebble path, but now focuses upon a narrow gap in the mountain side. There, a small assortment of wooden obstacles form a makeshift barrier. Once did I pass through the quasi-wall. Once did I see...the Bulwark.

"Keep moving, Hope!" Darion speaks through his heavy panting, "We are near!"

With all strength able, we hurry onward. With each passing second the gap grows. With each passing second the ground quakes more violently. With each passing second it grows harder to keep our pace. And, with each fleeting moment, I begin to notice an increasing darkness at the edges of my vision.

"Run, little mortals run!" The dark call echoes off the stone walls ahead, "I will catch you!"

As we move, I begin noticing a horror I recognized from earlier. Shadows coil from shrubs, trees, all objects available. The tenebrous clouds creep across the rolling soil. They bounce, horizontally upon flat surfaces. They gather...for the path ahead.

"If I cannot penetrate your flesh, pup, then I will consume you!" His words linger painfully upon my mind.

Lurching shadows creep in all corners of my vision. I twist to the left and the right. All around us comes an ominous wall of pure damnation. Light itself is vacant as the expanding stygian design consumes all reality. Trees around us fade into darkness. Shrubs cease into nothingness. All that remains is the path and the light from Bulwark. And the cry of the General...

"Shadow shroud you, little pup!"

We close in on the weak barrier. Shadows envelop all but the tiny gap. Come on, Hope! We are so close! Do not give in now! Do not give up at this very moment. Yards from safety. Feet from destruction. Shadows devour all reality but the tiny, fleeting light before us.

"Hope, don't you stop!" He tugs at my arm, "We will make it!"

A frosty chill dances playfully across my delicate flesh. Darkness grips me, forcing my skin to cringe. Hairs pull to their ends, all heat escaping in the abyss -- lost in the iniquitous void.

"So close," Darion gasps as we near the border of the wall, "COME ON, LEGS, DON'T FAIL ME NOW!"

And with those words, the death knight jerks me forward. Together, lost in the sea of darkness, the two of us pass through the gate. We barrel past the wooden construct and speed into familiar territory. We sprint past a blur of a man. We make it to safety...yet...I can still feel the clawing shroud.

Suddenly, my foot snags a rock in the ground, and all speed, all haste, is lost to a stumbling motion. Surges of pain rush across my arms and legs as I skid across unforgiving stone. But I ignore the pain, hurrying to my feet. Sadly, I know it is too late. I know the darkness comes, hungering, waiting to feast upon my flesh.

Oddly, instead, there are only the pants of a nearby Darion, and a heavy, rolling sound, like cracking stone and shattering earth. Instantly, I spin. It is there, standing before the Bulwark, where I see the man we so ignorantly darted past. It is there, standing before a tall, complete stone wall, where an elevated figure stretches its arms to the skies.

Heavy robes cover almost every inch of the lanky figure, except for the revealed hands and the teal glow that illuminates from each one. Before him, where the Bulwark once stood, is now a looming, earthen construct. And if my guess is right, then this figure is the one that built the soil cork to the path behind us.

"What is this?!" The Dark General's voice bounces harmfully from behind the newly added wall, "What magic...no..."

Instantly, the man's voice alters, mangled to that of something far angrier, "TOK, YOU ONLY DELAY THE INEVITABLE!"

Rage strangles every word, "I will have him! You hear me, Troll! Try to hide him! Try to defend him, but in the end you will fail!" His voice travels, "I will have him!"

His voice fades, but not before I shouts one last, disturbing statement.

"Cataclysm comes, Troll! It is too late to fight it now!"

And at that, there is silence. Silence except for the gentle hum that radiates from the man's hands and the heavy pounding of my very heart. I am not quite sure what just happened, but it has something to do with that tall figure and his conveniently placed wall. Might as well go give the guy a big hug.

_You need to squeeze him good!_

I sigh, take a deep breath, and march to the character. As I do, the man lowers his arms, and pivots upon his heels. Turning to us, he reveals a long, mangled staff. Skulls dangle ominously upon the sides and give structure to a vast majority of said stick. In his other hand is a tiny, vibrating monster. This same monster chirps loudly, before wriggling joyfully in the three, long fingers it is held by.

Three fingers? A skull crafted staff. Squeals not biting him? It cannot be...

"Mon, I do believe ya'lost something." The raspy, calm voice rolls from beneath the long, slender, teal nose. "And she be mighty hungry, mon."

Standing there, as if lost in time, is the mighty troll of some time past. It was with him and Chromie that built Andorhal, and is was he that aided me in my journey to discover who I really him. He is...

"Tok!" Darion's voice rumbles as he trots to the troll. Excitement and calm auras wafting from the Knight.

Yes, indeed. Tok Fon. And as the name rolls around in my mind, I cannot help but repeat it over and over. As it rolls in my mind, I cannot help but feel the Dark General's words linger upon my mind. As it rolls in my mind, I realize that our friend here knows more than we do.

As I near him, he nods, as if expecting the words I shout loudly, "Tok Fon, you have some explaining to do."

A frown forms on his face, and as it does, all the words dance in my head; omens, threats, predictions, the works. But most importantly, the word that clings to my mind, smothers my thoughts, and strangulates my calm. The one word...Cataclysm. I know I will not like the meaning behind it...


	12. Chapter 10: Just the beginning

"_Let the festivities begin!"_

_Dwarf upon the very first day of Brewfest._

_

* * *

_

Green, elongated finger bounce a tiny raptor playfully. A plump, yet slender nose protrudes from a teal hued faced. Light green cheeks hold firmly, bearing a weak smile, yet confronting me before I dare do so.

I take a step towards him, frustration pouring from my saliva glands, "Troll, what was that?"

His eyes stay fixated upon the tiny pet. Drifting to it comes his mangled staff, the tiny skulls strung to it dangling inches from the raptor's face. She snaps playfully at the oscillating, bleached, bones. She is so adorable!

_You really need to focus_…

Um, yeah. Right!

"Tok!" Angry feet shuffle determinedly towards the tall figure, "I know you can hear me!" I twirl my hands, motioning to the sides of his head, "I know those ears aren't just for show!"

A weak smirk forms upon his face as his eyes calmly roll upwards. Dark pupils target my presence while large, upward jutting tusks lower with his sundering jaw.

"Mon, dat be…" He twists back to where the Bulwark used to be, "…a wall."

I lower my brow, frustration evident, "Why does everyone do that?" I shake my head, "I don't care about your magical stone wall."

Air drags heavily into my lungs. Carbon dioxide drifts forcefully outward.

"Who…"

Without saying a word, he lifts his cane a few inches from the ground. Oddly, he vibrates it before gently returning it to the earth. I think he just did some strange voodoo silence ritual…

_You know he just distracted you with shiny bones and pretty movements._

"Dat be da Dark General, mon."

I narrow my vision, "Yes, Tok, I got that when he told me. Right after the part where he threatened to maim my person."

A strange smirk forms upon the troll's face, "Well, mon, just be happy he done not mangle ya being."

Darion shifts into vision, a rather comforting sense of bewilderment wafting from his presence. I'm happy I am not alone here.

"What our friend is trying to say is…who is he?"

Tok cocks his eyebrow.

"Why would I know dat, mon?"

Darion takes a step forward, his eyes narrow tentatively upon the troll. "Because." He advances another foot, "He knew your name."

Instantly, Tok frowns. He tucks his staff under the armpit of the arm bracing Squeals. Thoughts roll through his head as he reaches to scratch his chin.

"I done be caught dere, yes mon." He tilts his head down, "Let me see, where ta'start, where ta'start."

He looks upwards. Almost simultaneously the ground shakes gently. The troll ignores the mild tremor and speaks.

"Da General dat stood before'ya used to be a man. A normal man, mon." He pauses as another brief tremble draws his focus momentarily, "But as ya can see, he not be dat way anymore."

I cannot control myself as he completes the last sentence, "Obviously. But how did he end up dat…that…way?"

He sighs, "Mon, if ya let me finish." The troll rotates a bit in his spot, "Ya see, da monster dat stands against us used to stand on our side. He used ta'stand next to us."

Tok glances at the ground, "He used…to stand beside…"

He loses himself in his mind. A strange expression swells upon his face. The troll seems to wander, but I am not sure if it is out of confusion or willingness to ignore.

_You know which one. You know one of the two belongs solely to you._

Then his eyes spring back to us. The answer ready for us both.

"Da man known as Conrad Drakken used to stand beside…me." His teeth grit angrily together, "He let da need for powa corrupt who he really be."

Sorrow grips his persona now, "He lost his identity to'da shadow." A mixture of anger and despair rains from his eyes, "Now he simply be…da Dark General."

As he finishes his sentence, he reaches for his cane. Fiercely he slams it into the ground before turning from the two of us. In a hurry, he rushes towards a small, abandoned post near the stone wall.

"Mon, dat all ya'be needing to know about dat." He speaks as he moves, "Any more be simply a waste of our time."

He scales a short incline before coming to a set of horses. One bears the dark armor of Darion, while other is traditional, light brown ride. And with that, the discussion is over. Not much explaining there, but…might as well take what you can get.

"Mon!" Tok shouts at something unseen, "Ya find anytin useful?"

I am not sure whom he is talking to. However, as I near the vacant camp, I notice something stirring beneath one of the torn tents. It is from that same worn, white enclosure where a rather familiar voice rings.

"Troll, for the tenth time, there is absolutely nothing of importance here."

I know that voice…

"Mon, den why ya be in dat tent for?"

Instantly a hideous form of a man emerges from the tent. The same expression of hate smothering his disgusting face. The same hatred flowing from his soulless eyes…

"Because you told me to, troll!"

Saylem…

"Mon, don't ya raise ya voice at me." Tok swiftly raises his cane. "Ya know ya punishment."

_CLANK_

"Ow!" The wooden staff slams righteously atop the man's head. "What was that for?"

_CLANK_

"Stop it!"

CLANK

"Mon, ya don't be giving da orders here."

Tok lowers his cane and turns me, "Before ya ask, Hope, he be here because it was either serve me, or go back in time an'enjoy da war of da ancients first hand."

That troll is good

Tok smirks, "I done tink he choose da wrong path."

From under his sickening breath, Saylem speaks, "You said it…"

Tok twists back to Saylem, glaring angrily. Rightfully so. Honestly, the troll should shoot him. I reach back, stroking my gun gently. Or I should. _You need to relax_. Just one, right between the eyes. That will do him some good.

_You know that isn't your place._

Suddenly, a violent quake interrupts my thoughts of vengeance. I feel myself stumble backwards, unable to balance to the random spasm. Thankfully, the shiver is brief, lasting only long enough for me to wobble backwards a few yards.

I quickly peruse my terrain, seeking to see if anyone is harmed. Fortunately, everyone holds firmly.

Saylem, however, doesn't seem to be quite stable, "What are with these earthquakes?"

Tok shrugs, "Mon, I have no idea. Now shut ya face."

Saylem throws a look of distain at the troll before quietly turning to the horses. It is then I decide to walk to the three of them. It doesn't take me long -- except for the random quake that slows me. Once there, I cannot help but stare maliciously at Saylem.

I could hit him with my shovel. Real hard.

_You will not._

Saylem grunts as he attempts to load a small package on to the horse. It seems rather heavy, and he definitely does not seem capable of lifting it upon the steed's back. I should help him, but watching him struggle is way more entertaining.

_You sure you aren't related to Nathanos?_

Then, as he has it almost exactly where he wants it, the ground shakes horrendously. I brace my legs this time, keeping myself from falling. Saylem, however, is caught off guard. He fights feverishly to keep his work in its location, but this man is just not fit for this duty. Heavily, the crate slides down the horse's side, glides densely downwards…and shatters upon the ground.

"Come on!" He shouts and glares at the cracked mess.

Promptly, he kneels to scoop it up. However, an appearance of frustration bathes his demeanor as he begins shuffling through the pile.

"Rocks!" He uprights swiftly, "You made me try to load a box of rocks onto this horse?"

Tok walks to his side, shaking his head as he glances at ground, "I did love dem rocks, mon." Stealthy he lifts his cane. "But dey be filthy now."

_CLANK_

"Bad Saylem. Bad, mon."

Saylem clutches the top of his skull, rage consuming his person. Angry, dark pupils lock on the passing troll. The desire for vengeance soaking his skin. It is almost as if I can see the Dark General in him. It is almost as if I can hear the man's tenebrous words…

It is then the one word that bothered me before drifts back into my mind. Cataclysm.

"Tok!" I shout at him, remembering that he has more explaining to do, "What did he mean by the 'Cataclysm'?"

The troll stops at the horse. Halting all movement, he seems to be dumbstruck by the question. He doesn't move a muscle. He doesn't flinch in the least. He simply stands, lost for words.

Then, after a good, long moment of dramatic poise, he twists to me, an extreme expression of concern locked properly upon his face.

His lip sunder, but he is unable to say a word before…

It feels as if the earth shatters where we stand. Rocks roll beneath my feet. The mountain walls before us tremble horrifically, fragments of their girth snapping from place. I swing my arms to the sides, hoping to find any structure to brace me from the rolling waves of destruction.

With all my strength available, I lean forward, using my legs as shock absorbers. Anguishing waves of quivering soil send pulsating sensations up my limbs and spine. This is one is greater than any before. This one…

I look up, seeking the others around me. Darion struggles to stay upon his horse. Tok braces his steed, using it as the foundation to his balance. Saylem wraps himself around the same ride's rear leg, his fear evident. Yeah, real man there.

I lean backwards uncontrollably. Painfully, I immediately jerk back forward, hoping to keep my balance. My fingertips scrape the dead grass. Palms lock briefly upon the quivering bastion below me. Then, after what feels like an eternity, the quaking lessens. But, unlike those prior, this one does not vanish completely.

I am able to upright myself, but as I do, a low, rumbling noise calls to me from behind. Without hesitating, I spin. To my dismay, the rolling crashing quickly turns to a barrage of cracking earth and shattering soil.

Before my very eyes…a large portion of the land, opposite the main road, elevates. Roots snap. Stones slip off cascading ledges. Clouds of dirt, dust, and screeching land waft off the edge of the solid earth.

Behind it, a decrepit tower quakes violently, large stones cracking from their once mortared positions. Warriors clad fully in ruby scurry from the tower's base.

With each passing second, cracks gather at the edges of the building. More and more blocks snap…until finally, with a distant growl, the top collapses inward. Screams echo as the tower folds to the side, bending for those caught below. In a cloud of horrifying dust, the tower ceases to exist.

This cannot be happening…

Suddenly, rhythmic steps clank from behind, and I spin. Looming over me is a mounted Tok, Saylem positioned behind him.

The troll throws me a glance as he passes. All joy, excitement, all happiness lost to his now stern look.

As he moves, he quietly speaks over the rumbling, "Dis be it, mon."

With that, he snaps his reins, taking to the path. He moves quickly, advancing past the remains of the Bulwark with all haste. He moves quickly, passing the rising chaos and growing quaking. He moves…against what can only be…the Cataclysm.

"Giddy up, Hope!" A sharp force snatches my arm, and I feel myself lift off my feet.

Instinctively, I turn to the force, throw my legs forward, and lock onto the side of the horse. Gracefully, I manage to pull myself upon the heavy metal – the same sharp prick poking me. I sigh as trampling thuds echo off the path below.

"Welcome aboard, Hope!" Darion whips the reins, the horse following his command obediently.

The Death Knight locks his focus straight ahead; his only concern the hasty Troll yards from us. He must keep his steed balanced and aligned if we are to fight the tremors. My focus however, drifts back to the chaos around us.

My optics drift to the right, absorbing the raging plains. Tiny houses oscillate violently, their structure all but naught to the raging seismic activity. Undead farmers dash across fields of rotting vegetables. Scarlet warriors dart fearfully -- dropping shield and blade to give them speed.

Dozens of people flee, caught in the unexpected storm.

"Get off the road!" Darion shouts loudly, and I am forced to look.

Forsaken merchants abandon their lively hoods in favor of their own lives. They take to feet, undead steed, or whatever gives them aid. Tok tramples fiercely pass them, forcing them from the road. Darion shows equivalent compassion as he waves impatiently at them.

"It's the end of the world!" A man screams as we dart past him.

"The Apocalypse has come!" Another man howlers as he drops his last possessions in his speedy trail.

"Queen save us!" A third person screams as we leave them, sadly, behind us.

"Mon, dis be insane!" Tok is barely audible over the combined might of everything nearby, "Da land is angry, mon!"

We round a bend, and in the corner of my vision, I see a sea of movement. I cannot help but throw my gaze towards the torrent of activity. To my left is a sloping path; a large, stone road paved perfectly upon it. At the sides rest massive, purple banners. Upon them, a feminine face is painted -- Sylvanas…the Undercity.

Hundreds of Forsaken denizens scale the rather lengthy incline. Like water to a dam, they collide into a growing mass at the city's gates. So many of them struggling to find safety within the hollowed halls. So many…and we definitely aren't going to beat them…

"Watch it!" A swift jerk and Darion's voice throws my sight forward again.

A fearful woman scampers in front of the horse. Skillfully, Darion pulls the reins, and the horse navigates properly. I watch her rush to the city, and I instantly am pulled in the opposite direction of her movement.

It is there, back upon the right side of the road, where a small town is quickly brought to vacancy. A near solid path of wriggling, terrified individuals flee the premises. Behind them, buildings shake, roar, and painfully descend into an expanding cloud of destruction. Entire sections of the town lower, the earth itself consuming them. Other buildings tilt vertically, the land beneath drifting upwards.

One, noticeable structure tilts grotesquely. Wood splinters as the neck of the construct oscillates and slowly gives way to the unyielding barrage. Then, chiming one, last time…the structure, the bell tower, cracks and leans unnaturally forward. The mechanics howler loudly from within as its entirety navigates for the ground below.

"Unbelievable." Words slip past my mouth as I gawk helplessly at the carnage.

All I can do is stare. All I can do is bask before that which is nature's fury.

"We aren't getting in there that way. What is your plan, troll?" It is this time Saylem that belches over the ever increasing roar.

Just barely, the troll twists backwards at the human, "Mon, we gotta head through da back! Into da sewer!" As he speaks, a strange, cracking noise rolls from my side – almost sounds like splintering wood.

"The sewers?" Saylem secretes a concoction of disgust and displeasure, "Sickening."

Tok turns further, most of his face locked upon the annoying man, "Mon, don't ya be sassing me again…"

As he moves, I notice his horse sway a bit off course, heading up a slight incline. It is then, just visible in the right corner of my eye, do I see where the random cracking comes from…

"Look out below!" A high-pitched wail bellows from above, "She is coming down!"

Without thinking, I twist my head to envelop the construct fully. A large, stone tower elevates into the sky a short distance ahead and to our right. A spiraling staircase follows the length of the structure, snapping and breaking to the oscillating structure.

I navigate the base until I come to a rather disturbing anomaly. About halfway up wood is exposed. Stone flees the tilting edifice. Wood howlers in agony, goblins scream in dismay.

The zeppelin tower…

"Get aboard the ships!" My eyes navigate to the shouting goblin aboard the remaining zeppelin. "Jump!"

Figures reach out to aid those rushing across the failing platform. One, two, three figures leap aboard the drifting ship as the zeppelin tower snaps in two. Thankfully, all those once upon the tower have escaped. That was close…

Loudly, a rather perturbing screech rings from the slowly descending construct. To my horror, I watch as a stressed, steel chain pulls to its limits…and snaps. Whipping outward, it throws a portion of sundered and iron outward.

It catches the side of the zeppelin perfectly, snagging one of the ropes that connects the balloon to the wooden base. Crewmen rush to release the lodged construct…but it shall be gravity that wins this fight.

The tower falls further, reaching the limits of the chain's length. And, with all force the planet still bears, it tugs violently at the zeppelin, snapping the line with ease. Goblins and other passengers scream as the front of the ship tilts to the side.

It is then, and just then, we pass underneath the collapsing tower. In seconds, we shoot past the free-falling construct. A sense of relaxation nestles me as we leave the tower behind, but quickly returns as the zeppelin reappears in sight.

The ship turns uncontrollably, caught by the downward force. It barrels onward, and from here I watch as a stern crew attempts to navigate the ship, only to draw it to a perfect path a few yards ahead, and almost completely over us. It shadow shrouds us.

They are able to stabilize it momentarily. Sadly, another loud snap rains down upon us, and the entire left side of the ship falls, the railing facing us now.

"Tok…" Darion quietly yells as we move.

Screams filter between the roaring crashes of the tower behind us. I dare not glimpse backwards. Let that devastation stay from my memory. All I experience from the finale of the edifice is a brief gust and some annoying pockets of dust.

"Tok!" Again the Knight howlers, this time more fiercely.

Another line bends, this time the remaining front rope. Slowly, the ship begins tilting further downward, its nose taking the lead. Calmly, we bask at the horrors above. Sickeningly, I realize what is about to happen…

"GET OFF THE ROAD!" Promptly, the Knight jerks the reins, pulling us to the right. It is at that very moment the front rope snaps, sending the entirety of the vessel downward.

Only one rope remains attached as the ship pivots downward. Only one strand is intact. Only one, meager thread exists. And, as the ship swings to the limits available, the final string is plucked, snapping with ease.

I feel myself jerk right, but my optics dare not drift from the falling wooden body. Loud screeches of sundering metal rain as the balloon and the base part their ways. The purple, upper portion drifts violently into the air…while the rest is left descending.

Screams bellow from within -- high-pitched wails and deep, forsaken howls alike. The nose navigates their plunge. The crew clings with all strength, and pray for mercy equivalent. But gravity knows neither pleas nor differentiation. They shall feel its force fully…

_CRASH_

Inwards the inclined nose bends. Sides snap outwards, splintering wood turning to an array of compound fractures. So close are we that slivers of jutting wood stir air into frenzy as they whip past us.

Fortunately, Tok navigates around the destruction, aiming for a wobbling, worn tower just ahead. As Darion and I pass, leaving the groaning concoction of battered wood and wounded passengers, it slowly begins rolling backwards.

It takes only a second for the ship to turn upon its belly, slamming loudly upon the stone path. There, finally coming to a rest, the ship becomes motionless, motionless except for weak movement coming from those inside.

Phew…not all of them were lost…

"Mon, dis be insane!" I divert my attention back to Tok. "Da planet be losin'its cool!"

"What gave you that idea, Tok?" Darion pulls the reins as we dodge a fleeing crusader coming from the nearby tower.

"Don't make me hit ya wit me cane, bruddah!" Tok replies by whipping his staff behind him, intentionally or not hitting Saylem in the side of the face.

"Troll!" Saylem shoves the stick from his head, "I didn't do anything that time!"

Tok smiles, "I know mon." He turns back forward, "Dat was for Darion."

Darion cackles quietly to himself. I cannot help but smirk as we round a slope of a hill and head for a small rocky array of hills just ahead. Oddly, something draws my attention upward. As I drift, I catch sight of a slowly descending, purple balloon.

A giant hole in the bottom allows for quick escape to its innards, but not so much so that it falls instantly; instead, it slowly flattens as it nears the mountains just ahead. I follow it intently, watching it turn to a pancake before landing gently upon the upper lip of what appears to be a cave.

It is still quite some distance from us, but from here I can see it perfectly. A sickly, neon-green glow radiates from the bottom of the opening. A heavy sense of darkness clings to the upper sanctums of the hole, but overall, it brings to us a welcoming hospitality.

Well, as much as a sewer entrance can anyway…

I stare at the hole, knowing full where it will lead us all. Straight into the Undercity, where the Forsaken dwell, where the one lady, eyes built of gorgeous, ruby diamonds rules. Sylvanas…

_You know she hates you._

No, she is just in denial.

_You are in denial._

You know the look she gets when we touch. A look of yearning. Of desire. You know damn well that look.

_You have me there…_

Yeah, exactly…

Strangely, an odd sensation rolls across the side of my flesh. I am instantly drawn from my inner-wanderings. It is a burning, tingling feeling. Almost as if something is staring at me…

I twist in the direction of my twitching. Briefly, I glimpse at my right shoulder, at the base of my discomfort. Instinctively, I throw my oculars upward and outward. I need only peruse for a second before I catch sight of it…a man…

Just barely visible, I see the rather tall, looming figure. I squint for a better glimpse of the man. His body seems unnatural, almost misshapen. Even as a tiny speck in my vision, it feels as if he is feet from me. It has to be a hallucination, but…he draws me to him.

If I didn't know any better…I would say that is an elemental. A bipedal…elemental…

My entire world is consumed by his presence. My entire vision becomes a blur to his mere existence. His flesh appears to quiver, rolling up and down as if moving. His skin is like rippling waves of pure water. But its face that lures me. His head seems shapeless, bending and spiraling as a concoction of numerous blues.

Within the cascading skull are two, dark blue orbs. They lock upon me. They control me. His eyes call to me. What do they want? What does he want?

My eyes dry from the sheer intent of my stare, and I am forced to blink. As my eyes open again there is nothing. He is gone. Had to be an illusion. Your wonderful mind playing tricks on your again…

_You…need…to…look…up…_

Unexpectedly, a deep rumble is followed a mild shockwave. That didn't feel like an earthquake. That was different.

_You need to look up...NOW._

Following the command of my voice, I glance up a bit…

Oh no…

In the distance, a cascading wall of solid blue rolls forward. It coils, bending towards the earth as if beckoned. Again a deep rumble precedes a mild shockwave. Then, the once vertical display, the once vertical teal wall…turns to a massive, churning force of destruction…

The sea…

Two words slip uncontrollably as I watch the rolling blanket of pure momentum stream roll across a crop field.

"Tidal wave…"

"Hope, what are…" Darion twists to his side, attempting to see me. However, he catches glimpse of what lures me. "Unbelievable…"

He spins forward, "Faster, Tok, faster!"

The Death Knight's voice dims slowly to the rolling rumble of the incoming barrage.

Tok turns slightly as we hit the incline of the mountainside. "Mon, da quaking…not…get us….here." His eyes widen as he too enjoys the show of the rolling chaos.

He does not say a word. He doesn't need to. His eyes scream terror, confusion, and dismay. His body quivers to the sheer force of the pressing wall of water. His mind lost to the buildings dwarfed and wholly consumed by the thundering call of nature's fury.

As we slow, the horses tired from the adventure, an unnerving sense of panic slowly filters out the numbness of dismay. We need to get to the top of this hill.

"Troll, MOVE!" Darion snaps his reins fiercely, but the steed can only go so fast.

Tok weakly attempts to coerce his mount into haste, but he knows we will get nothing. He simply gawks, as do I. The curling tendrils of an assaulting behemoth snap onward, the world's vengeance filling each one. Trees snap, uproot, and follow the path of the rolling flood.

With each passing second, it grows louder, its thundering growl consuming all thought, all mind. It is unlike anything I have ever heard before. It is as if the water itself is calling to us. It is as if the sounds of one thousand streams merged together, forming the epitome of chaos within its flooding bellows…

And with its sound, the display is not lacking.

We round the top of the hill. The water crashes across the sides of the vertical, stone construct. The cave's eerie whispers beckon us. The roaring rumble of the water silences the earth promptly.

We near the entrance.

The flood nears with all speed the world is willing.

Darkness enters our vision.

Tendrils of water lash upwards.

We enter…but we are too late.

And, as the water catches up to us, I can barely make out Tok say one, last thing, "Da elements unleashed…mon."

I do not know who entered first, the raging waters, or us, but I do which one's desire for entrance overcame. The horse buckles beneath us. I feel myself lift, becoming weightless in a flash. My body is thrown forward, drifting freely upon the air.

Sadly, the sensation is all but brief. Moments later, the call of the earth beckons, and I find myself descending rapidly. As I fall, I catch sight of deep, rolling tunnel, with a heavy, twisting river filling its once vacant cavern.

I slap the water fiercely, my flesh welcomed by tense, unforgiving waves. The stinging pain of entry is lost by the churning chaos and confusion of the twisting waters. I feel a heavy object slap my side as I roll uncontrollably. Instantly, I throw my arms, attempting to find whatever it was. Only my shovel…

An odd force tugs at my body, and I feel as if I being crushed by the sheer force of the water. Foolishly, I make to open my eyes, and a horrific burning fills the poor optics. But, with the brief glance I am able to see the surface overhead.

With all my might, all my control, I throw my limbs downward and pull to the battering surface of the rolling destruction. In a second, I find myself free of the enveloping terror, but not even near safety. I take a deep breath before a sudden figure appears in my vision.

Six, long, teal fingers wrap around my shoulders as the troll latches on to me.

"Mon, I can't swim!" He is just audible over the growling waters.

Sadly, a sudden force pushes my under once again. The troll is trying to drown me! I flail wildly as I feel us jerk to the left – we must have hit a bend in this hellish water slide.

As we float here, the troll forcing mouthfuls of water in my body, I feel a strange, pinching feeling upon my head. I throw my hands to the top of my head, and there I find a strange, lumpy object attached firmly. Tiny, angry claws scratch my scalp while tiny teeth sink into the top of my skull.

Squeals…

I am able to pull the surface once again, gasping painfully. While I am above the water, I am able to shout to the troll, with as much patience available, "I can't breath, you idiot!"

The troll instantly tugs at my shoulder, pulling me closer to him as if hugging me. Oddly, as I feel us roll downward, he shakes me.

"Breed, bruddah, breed!"

Then, as he shakes me, another force tugs downward, and what follows can only be described as a sickening pressure, like being sucked through a tunnel. It lasts briefly before a cascade of teal, sickly light fills my vision, and once again, I find myself floating upon the air.

Below, I see a thick, green river of slime and stone barricades all around it. And, as we fall, I know that is exactly where we are going to land. Exactly where the troll squeezing me, the raptor biting me, and I are going to land.

And, as we fall, the water following promptly, I cannot help but let my mind wander. I remember once, upon the dry lands of the Plaguelands that promised myself I would go to the beach, go to the ocean. There, I would listen to the rolling waters, play in the cascading waves, and swim in the salty depths.

But it would seem, in the end, the ocean just couldn't wait for me to come to it any longer…


	13. Chapter 11: Labyrinths

_"If you learn anything from me, child, let it be this: you will always find lost items in the place deemed most improbable. With that being said, where might my misplaced book not be?"_

_Medivh to his young apprentice Khadgar._

_

* * *

_

Heavy soaked clothing clings disgustingly upon my damp flesh. Horrid, rancid odors waft from every inch. Pustules of bubbling slime hug various locations upon my rather perturbed body.

I would be lying if I said I always wanted to go for a swim in these oozing rivulets.

"Mon, where did dese undead find dis gunk?" Tok pats pockets of goo from his chest, "I mean, mon, I have seen some nasty stuff in me time, but dis…bleh."

He frowns with disgust as he bats a large pile of goop off his shoulder. It flops from his side, rolls across his arm, and drifts grotesquely to the floor – plopping sickeningly upon the moist stone ground. There, it quivers and rolls back to its glowing abyss…as if alive.

"Dat, mon…be nasty." Tok throws the vanishing goo one last glance before twisting to me. "Mon," he points at the top of my head, "ya got a rapta' on ya'noggin."

Without looking, I nod and sigh heavily.

"Yes, she decided using my skull as a raft was better than swimming." I digress briefly to flick some slime from my sleeve. "Almost like you, I must add."

He cackles.

"Hey, mon, everybody done have dere moments of weakness." He shrugs and starts walking, "Mine just be wit da wata."

Promptly, he marches across the water-laced floor, moving past a large, vacant area where I do believe merchants used to rest. His robes carve ripples into the slowly growing pool of water.

"Wait?" I eye him as he passes, "Aren't you a shaman? You know, master of the elements and what not?"

He shrugs as he navigates by, "Mon, I can control da watas...not necessarily swim in dem. Never part of da job description, mon."

In a hurry, he rushes towards a long, dim corridor. I lose interest in him and begin wandering -- as I so often do, I twist my body, the urge to discover the source of the fluid unyielding. It doesn't take much time or effort to find the base. Overhead, back upon the wall whence we came, is a large, circular opening. From it comes a constant trickling of fresh seawater. Well, that mystery is solved.

_You are quite the detective. You didn't need a magnifying glass or anything._

Sighing to my own internal comments, I let my optics drift downward. Before me rests a nearly vacant, Forsaken construct; abandoned say for a few lone undead. Drawing from that, I throw my body forward once again and scan for the lanky troll.

I find him quickly standing next to Darion, Saylem, and a rather plump creature. The said beast is a sickly pink in color and has an array of stitches sewn haphazardly into its body. There are two major areas of interest with the rest of this monster: first, and foremost, are the organs dangling from its stomach, and secondly…the third arm protruding from its back.

Of course, this creature is no stranger to me. An abomination, and, thankfully, its on our side.

Without hesitating, I make my way to them.

"Hey, fatty, tell me where this city's leader is. Can you do that, you mindless lummox?" Saylem, with all his wit available, attempts to communicate with the creature.

Obviously, the towering beast simply groans in a disgruntled manner. Promptly after he ignores Saylem and continues staring off into space.

"Do you understand common, or you just stupid?" Again Saylem kindly speaks to it. But, again, it ignores him completely.

Saylem sighs and shrugs, "I got nothing."

Tok shakes his head in disbelief, "Me giant friend, could ya please tell us where da Queen might be?"

At first the abomination does not respond, but after a good second its eyes navigate downward to the dwarfed troll standing in his shadow. It emits a gargling sort of sound before chuckling.

"Me know where pretty lady be!" He shouts rather loudly, "She be giving strange new people welcome. Yes! She going to all them!"

Tok taps his cane on the floor and commences to scratch his chin, "And where might dat be?"

Again the creature gargles, before groaning and clapping his hands in a playful manner, "Gronky know! Gronky know good!"

Instantly, he spins, darting down the long, dreary corridor he was most likely positioned to watch. Tok sighs and takes off in a mild jog after the beast. Darion shakes his head before deciding to follow. Saylem slumps forward, frustration bathing his face.

I take to a hasty pace in my attempts to gain on the troll and Death Knight leading. Sadly, I pass by Saylem in my coarse. As I do, I hear him say something to me.

"Um, you have a reptile lodged on your skull. You know that right?"

I turn as I move, "OF course, I just like wearing it like a hat. It is the new style."

_You know that is almost a complete truth._

He cocks his eyebrow, confusion pouring from his eyes. It takes him a second to realize the sarcasm behind my comment. As he enjoys his revelation, he apathetically begins jogging after me.

At that, I turn forward once again, and as I do, I reach my hands up, wrap my soggy fingers around the moist raptor and gently squeeze. I give her a gentle tug, hoping she will dislodge immediately…but what a fool I am. She tightens her grip with each jerk.

I come to a "T" intersection, the end of this path, and half-heartedly steer myself to the left. My main focus, however, is on the rather stubborn beast on my head.

"Squeals, let go!" Merely mentioning her name sends a rhythmic, vibrating pulse across the vast of my scalp. "Squeals, if you don't you are going to make me…do…it…"

Instantly the oscillating stops.

"Oh, you know what I am talking about, eh?" I tug at her again, figuring the subject alone would break her will, but it seems she is not shattered yet. She asked for it…

"Squeals, let go…or I am going to give you a bath! Attached to me or not!"

Silence follows except for the slapping of my shoes upon the wet floor. I glimpse down for a second to make sure I have not wandered too far. Thankfully, I am barely able to catch Tok dashing through an arched opening on the right side of the wall. I remember this…

_You also must remember your new hair apparel._

Ah, yes, the tiny one. No more patience available for this sad topic.

"Squeals! Bath! Off, now!" This time she emits a muffled chirp before releasing her grip. I quickly draw her over my head, and bring her sorrow filled body in front of my face.

I frown at her despair, "Squeals, I am not going to bathe you. I just wanted my head back. I promise."

Instantly, her tail whips into frenzy, her mouth opens, and her body jiggles happily. Quickly, I lift her to my pack, drop her there and expect her to climb into the warm container; instead, I feel a weak pressure on my right shoulder. My eyes discover a tiny horn near my ear, and I smile. She apparently wants to see what is happening.

With that, I leave her be, and make to the path that the troll ventured upon. In seconds, I round the bend, dart under the stone-arch opening, and dash across a slippery bridge. At the end stands the tall abomination. He stands facings me, but peers up at the ramps and the two ascending them.

"Bye bye, tiny things! Go play in up place. Go play wit pretty lady!"

His demeanor turns to sorrow as I near him. I come to his front, and quickly head to a narrow staircase to my left. It curves to a ramp of which leads to platform and eventually to another upward incline. What is with this odd city? Couldn't they just make stairs like normal individuals?

_You have been here before, and, lets face it, the design fits you, crazy man._

I nearly make it to the second ramp when I hear the giant cry from below, "Gronky stay here. Gronky too fat to fit into lifty thing." A frown molds across his stitched face.

Sadly, Saylem passes by the abomination as it finishes it statement.

"Yeah, sounds about right."

Gronky sighs heavily and throws his sight to the floor. It is then I decide to step in where ole'caring could not. Instantly, I recall the slushing water back the way he came. Maybe it will work...

"Hey, Gronky, why not go back to where you were? There is lots of water to splash around in."

Instantly the creature gargles, and promptly claps. "Gronky like water! Gronky go play in big puddles!"

With that, the ground quakes to his thundering stomp until he passes across the bridge and out of sight. Abominations, they are big children at heart. They forget why were depressed with ease.

_You are simply a child…period._

The sounds of footsteps draw me from the abomination, and I twist to see the King of Comfort climb the ramp and speed around the curvature of the final platform. Hastily, I pursue him. There is no way he is going to beat me to the surface! No way.

_You are going to have to kick it up a notch, then!_

My legs catapult forward, dragging my body with all haste available. Cold stone slide beneath my propelling soles. Pillars pass at my excelling speed. Saylem rounds into a corridor with me trailing closely behind.

He dashes down the winding path, blocking any route to pass. In a flash we scurry to the final bend, feet from each other. In a flash we spin through the short passage that follows. In a flash, we slide into a large, vacant, circular room. Behind us chimes the ring of a slamming door.

Now…we stand…awkwardly.

The elevator doesn't move. Nope. Doesn't move. Just the two of us…standing here. Doing absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. My eyes peruse the walls, sweeping for something of interest. Not a thing.

Oddly, Saylem clears his throat and speaks. "So…"

I nod without looking at him. "Yup."

Unwillingly I throw a brief glance at him, his eyes darting in their sockets as did mine.

He suddenly looks in my direction, and I am forced to look down. It is at that very moment that the elevator quivers gently and lifts upwards. I sigh with relief, but find myself glaring upon something rather disturbing. Attached at his side, in its holster…is the gun. The tool of his existence. The backing to his false words. His...gun...

Air crawls deeply in my lungs, "So, nice gun you got there." Air flows out erratically.

Very slowly, he tilts his head to the side, catching a rather creepy glance of the weapon he obviously knows I am speaking about. He smacks his lips as if recently have had sucked a lemon, "Yeah, my father gave it to me. Pretty reliable."

My eyes lock onto it, all focus bracing its design. I, too, find myself nodding and sucking in my lips in a fashion resembling a woman putting on lipstick. Then, as if I just discovered how to speak, I do so, "He…kill anything with it?"

His eyebrows lower, his oculars searching mine for the reasoning behind it. "No, never harmed a soul with it."

I throw my sight forward then, foolishly, I look back. It is then I say what comes to mind. The perfect comment for one so deserving, "Guess that sort of nobility isn't an inherit trait."

Anger sweeps his face, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." A smirk forms on my face. "Nothing at all."

He frowns, the answer to his question hidden beneath my fallacy of words. Of course, from his stance and expression, I know he got the meaning behind it.

Instantly, I throw my sight forward again. Silence follows in suit. We do not say another word upon this elevator. We do not speak to each other for the next few seconds. We do not even emit sounds above normal breathing. It is better this way. I still want to hit him with my shovel, and if gave me the chance…

Before I can finish my thought, the lift halts movement and the road glides upon. Without care, I dart forward, forcing my way ahead of the other. Swiftly, I scurry through the short, narrow path ahead of me, swerve to the right, round another path, curve to bend…round another…man, did a crazed scientist plan this city for a rat?

_You said it…_

Finally, after being the mouse to this maze, I find myself in the city's ruined throne room and heading down and out into the dark, musty air. Sundered statues line to my sides, but are quickly left behind as I exit onto the fresh, dew-ridden grass of the final courtyard.

As I make to clearing, the rolling rumble of a quiet crowd fills the air. All of my energy shifts to a determined, calm pace. With each step, the crowd grows louder. With each step, the quiet fades from their description. With each thud of my sole, the unseen gathering turns to an uproar of confusion, frustration, and fear.

Hundreds of voices attempt to overcome the other. It is nearly impossible to decipher what any of them are saying. I take another step, and the first Forsaken comes into sight. Another step. A dozen more. A final, long…lunge…

"Forsaken! My Forsaken." That voice…"Calm yourselves!"

The sweet, yet commanding, feminine voice blares loudly, but is just barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "I need your silence if…"

She slowly fades into the booming crowd. It is as if with each word she speaks the masses gain a level of volume. That is until she grows tired of the rabble…

"SHUT UP!" The deep, agitated command echoes upon the hollowed walls of his area, "This is not the time for such foolishness!"

Finally, I catch sight of what I so yearn for. Standing upon a platform on the left side of the courtyard, is a tall, elegant creature. Dark gray skin glints beautifully in the moonlight. Long legs lead to an exposed midriff and then to a heaving chest. But it is none of that which truly lures me to her…

No, it's her gorgeous face that always has. Her smooth cheeks, her confident expression, and those…eyes. Perfect, ruby eyes. Sylvanas.

I push through the crowd, making my way from the bridge. In the corner of right eye, I see Saylem shove past the right portion of the bridge, navigating in an arch to the back of the crowd. It is then I catch sight of Darion and Tok near the remains of the courtyard's center statue. That must be where he is headed. I, however, embrace that which holds my focus now.

Undead after undead become nothing more than obstacles in the path of my desire. Quickly, and with a rather strong sense of uncaring, I coerce my way through the bulky pack. As I do, she calls down to us.

"Forsaken, we must be strong in these times!" She sweeps the gathering, "We must band together!"

I push closer, aggravating a few denizens as I do.

"Never shall we lose our way! Lest we be consumed by the growing forces that wish for our demise."

The pack grows tighter, but I must make it to her. Suddenly, I feel my elbow jab into something, but I push on.

"United we must stand! Together as one! Together…as the Forsaken! And your Queen shall not fail you."

Instantly, the crowd cheers, rallied to the cause of their Banshee Queen. They throw their arms wildly into the skies, ignoring those all around them. This gives me a perfect moment, and I dart hurriedly past the remainder of the crowd.

"Today, the raging planet itself threatened our existences! Yet we shall overcome!" She sweeps the crowd, eying them into a moralized frenzy.

In a second I find the end of crowd's bulge. Now, almost directly above me, just a few feet away, is the one I so look for. It is her

"Now, my people, we must not forget the war waging to the south. The filthy Worgen presence grows larger with each passing day!" She navigates her sight across the right side of the audience.

She throws her hand to her chest, "We must acknowledge both recent occurrences and deal with them accordingly!" Her eyes narrows, her focus intensifying to her very own words.

"While we begin reconstruction, I am going to need all able bodies for the continued assault upon the Worgen safe-haven." Her eyes navigates around the back and to the left portion of the crowd.

"Head to the platform behind us if you wish to partake in the war against the Worgen. The Captain shall eagerly accept all those that enlist for the cause!" It is then, the piercing, red orbs, fury pouring from them like smoke, find my person, "All able craftsman report…to…Brill."

Her eyes lock firmly upon me. The once commanding demeanor lost to a bewildering expression. Red flames dance from sweeping, scanning, and hunting orbs of beauty. She knows what stands before her.

Suddenly, she glances upwards to the crowd before shouting, "Go! Stop wasting time!"

Instantly the crowd scatters in all directions, the obedient citizens flocking out the main gate or piling to the poor recruitment post behind me. Promptly, the Queen glares back at me. This time, however, rage and the epitome of anger forms upon her face. That isn't good…

Her body blurs as she reaches down. A sharp, merciless pain flows from both my shoulders, and I find myself lifting upwards unwillingly. She pulls me up and over the ledge as if I was weightless…

With a few jerks and tugs I find myself on my feet, but not quite where I wanted to be. She throws me past her, and rams her palm into my spine. Navigating my body, she uses her hand to push and squeeze my vertebrae like I am some sort of puppet.

_You are brainless enough to be one…_

I feel a small object flip from my shoulder, and manage to observe Squeals scurry back down the ramp behind us. As the tiny raptor fades from sight, we pass through a large, stone opening. Immediately, she shoves me to the side, out of sight of the crowd. I stumble uncontrollably past a wall. Harshly, she punches my shoulder then pushes my back to said barrier. We are not in plain sight…ok, maybe this was a bad idea…

"What did you do?" Harsh, unforgiving words radiate from her gentle lips. "If you are here, Lord of Lacking Attention Span, then you are the reason there are earthquakes."

My eyes lock with hers. Raging, uncontrollable, red flames billow from her piercing eyes. It has been too long since I have been lost in those lovely pools of endless hate.

"What did you do, Goldfish?" She painfully slams her left arm into my right shoulder. "Answer me, or I will gut you where you stand!"

I attempt to answer her question, but I am pretty sure she is trying to shatter my collarbone. Digressing, I navigate to her hand and stare at it intently. Finally, as the pain intensifies, I speak.

"Sylvanas, could you stop trying to sever my limb from my body?"

Instantly, she throws her weight into my arm. My mouth lowers, the pain unyielding. My vision navigates to her face again. Now, a sinister smirk forms.

"What are you going to do if I don't…Goldfish? You cannot do anything to stop me…"

As her final word slips from her mouth, she realizes what she has done. As her last syllable drifts from her lips, the revelation of her challenge apparent. She asked for it…

Swiftly, I throw my free arm to the side, latching my warm fingers around her smooth, frosty flesh. Cold tendrils draw across my bones, seep across my knuckles, and roll down my arm. Before my very eyes, her flesh glows brightly, the gray skin morphing to a healthy, pink hue once again. It would seem that I still possess that power…

"Let go of me!" Her words vibrate weakly, while a still angry hand waves a lone, commanding finger at me. "Let go, or…or…" she gasps, as if hard to breath, "Let go, or I swear…I…"

Her eyes close. Her chest heaves wildly. She pants, the sensation stirring lost thoughts and emotions within her chest. All signs of rage lost in the moment. All fragments of disgust vanquished by the bond we share. All motives of hate turned to yearning…

Strangely, unexpectedly, she throws her free hand to the side of my face, "You have no idea how much I missed this…"

Her face draws to mine. "It feels…so…" She pants fiercely, the pleasure coursing through her veins, "so…unbelievable…"

Lost in the moment, she pulls her forehead to mine. Her fingers dance playfully up the side of my face, drawing warmth with each tap, fueling her lust with each drumming beat. Nails dig into my temples, their lust feasting upon that which cures their ailing.

"Every day I dreamt of this…" her cold breath turns to heat as it drifts across my face, "dreamt of this…"

She pulls her mouth inches from mine. Her gentle lips calling for me. Her flesh quivering, seeking that which she so wants, what she needs. She cannot fight the burning sensation, the fierce delight. She curls her lower lip, biting it momentarily to coerce back the growing lust. Weak, seductive groans seep from her sealed mouth. Gorgeous, red eyes keep me focused exactly where they should be.

"Do you...remember the first time we met?" Eyes seal briefly, ecstasy clinging to the very movement. "Do you recall...what I told you?"

Gently, she pulls her hand from mine, lowering it out of sight. But I do not care. All that matters are the sparkling orbs before me. All that matters are the sensual lips quaking, hungering for my very own. Nothing else matters.

"I cannot forget..." Each word is bathed with seductive appetite.

Her red eyes reappear, her longing growing ever stronger. Her lips moving ever closer. I can almost taste them. I can almost remember the first time we kissed. I remember her eyes, her mouth, her very existence mingling with mine. For a brief, lingering moment, the two of us were one. And then...I recall the rage that pursued...

It is then I hear metal scraping against metal. Wait...

"Do you remember...." an odd, malicious smirk carves across her once lustful demeanor, "Let me remind you...."

Swiftly, I feel a cold, unwelcoming chill creep across my necked. My sight breaks from hers, glancing downward. There, pressed firmly against my throat is a jagged, angry blade.

"I told you, Goldfish, if you ever touch me again I would kill you!" Rage returns where it was once vacant. Desire, seduction, lust turn instantly into fury and angry. Flames return to her once calm eyes.

This ain't good...

_You are a dead man! You are not killing me...wait...no!_

The blade pushes gently against my neck, while her once delicate touch turns to a ravaging tug upon my scalp. This really ain't good...

"I have dreamt of this for far too..."

She steadies her hand. She preps her being. It is now the Queen shall finally have what she was apparently yearning for.

Suddenly, thankfully, a voice rolls from behind.

"Mon, where ya go?" Tok's voice is like that of an angel's. A raspy, manly angel. "Oh, mon, sorry ta'interrupting ya'two. I'll wait for da romance to be ova."

Sylvanas' pry to their limits, as her mouth falls open. Instantly, she releases her grip, takes a step back and twists towards the unseen troll.

"No, Tok, it is not like that..." Sylvanas' words still flutter with rage, but now dull to a pleading level. "He touched me, and I had..."

Tok throws his hand into the air, interrupting her immediately, "Mon, it ok. He be an attractive man, mon. He touch ya, ya gotta touch back. Fair enough."

"No!" She twists to me, "tell him I was trying to maim your person!"

Sadly for Sylvanas, it would seem Darion came into the picture exactly as she spokes those words, "Woah, Hope likes it rough. Makes sense to me, he is one for a beating."

Tok cackles suddenly, "Mo'like a spanking, mon!"

Darion laughs his loud, static laugh. Tok loses all control, snorting and all. Sylvanas, however, finds none of this comical.

"STOP IT, NOW!" Unbridled rage rumbles the halls of this small, stone chamber. "Tok, if you weren't you, I would have carved your body into a thousand pieces!"

Her entire body trembles from her remarkable fury, "Darion, same goes for you!"

She shifts towards them, thankfully forgetting her prior outlet of emotions, "Now, what are you and the idiot doing in my city? Did you come here simply to berate me? If so, let me slap those smiles from her faces now and let you wallow in your own stupidity as I return to matters of greater importance!"

I turn in time to see the two once proud figures lower their heads in disgrace. Almost simultaneously, they emit, "Sorry, ma'am."

The Lady shutters wildly, throwing her outburst from her veins. After a second, she inhales deeply, rolls her hands, and exhales. It is then she sighs.

Tok looks up as she finishes her odd ritual, "Mon, we simply be here ta'tell ya ta keep guard up. Dere be sometin' nasty possibly following us."

As he finishes his words, Sylvanas pivots her entire body to face me. "What did you bring here, you wandering fool?"

"Lady, mon, he not bring anytin here, I just sayin'ta'be careful, is all."

"Be careful?" Infuriated sarcasm strangulates her words, "Oh, Worgen and tremors weren't enough to worry about. Do you think me dense, troll?"

Tok glances to Darion, to me, then back to Sylvanas, "Um, no, just...um...wanted ta'aid ya in any way?" His own words reek of insecurity.

Sylvanas tenses violently, but, unexpectedly quells herself as something strolls through her mind.

"Actually, troll, you could assist me..." She pivots to her left, towards something unseen. Following suit is a rising arm, pointing at something in the distance, "If you, Darion, and Goldfish here were to head to the southern front, then I could possibly keep an entire regiment here for multiple purposes."

"Um, can do?" Tok, once again, chimes in with an extreme lack of confidence.

"Yes, that is perfect!" She turns to Tok and slaps his shoulder rather fiercely, "Go now, before I decide to have you clean up after the abominations instead."

With that she turns and makes for the ramp. However, before she exits view, she catches glimpse of something near the other two. Instantly she groans.

"And you, Saylem, are most likely with this random gathering of insolence, aren't you?"

Shaking gently appears the manly Saylem. He comes from the wall across from mine, "Yeah, I'm with Tok."

"No, he be my meat puppet, mon."

Sylvanas cackles, "Good, a punishment worthy of such a rat."

Suddenly she flinches, snapping her fingers as if recalling something, "Oh, Tok, a friend of yours will be joining your convoy. He was rather persistent about heading south, so much so that he joined a military expedition..."

"Ok, mon?" Tok responds with a rather familiar sense of confusion.

_You are reminded of yourself..._

There is a brief silence before Sylvanas angrily blurts, "Go, you ninnys! Take the dog door out! The one the beautiful tremors gave us!"

She points to her left, and, without hesitation, I take to my feet. Each leg swings forward, catapulted by the undesirable rage from behind. Ahead of us is a large, illuminated pile of sundered stone blocks. I stop inches from the opening, only to passed quickly by the strong-willed Saylem, then Tok and finally Darion. I, however, cannot help but twist backwards. Instantly, i catch sight of Squeals and her tiny legs scurrying towards me. As she nears, I bend down, scoop her up, and place her on my pack.

It is then, I catch sight of Sylvanas. She stands, back turned to me. Her right hand runs up the left, while she cocks her head towards the ground. Strands of yellow dance playfully upon the wind while a pair of beautiful, ruby gems glare at something unseen -- or at nothing at all. I do not know what she is thinking about, but, if she truly shared that moment for more than she let apparent, then I know it is of me. She cannot hide it forever...

"Hope!" Darion shouts to me, and I promptly spin towards him.

With due haste, I take to the steep incline of shattered stone and rolling grass. My body skips down the hill, as if gliding. It takes only a second for me to find level terrain, and as I do, my optics drift to a large, metallic object nearby -- a vehicle, if I am correct. From what I can make out, it appears to be large, hollowed out rectanglel. In front of it is attached a downward sloping block of iron. A tiny hatch on top flips open, and a Forsaken figure pops its head out. That must be the driver. Finally, below him, rests six, hulking wheels, three on each side. I peruse the area around this said construct, and quickly four more exactly like it.

"Hurry up!" An undead figure drifts past the rear vehicle, "The Commander will not be pleased if we are even a minute tardy!"

As if commanded, I dash across the grassy knoll, and sprint to the vehicle in front of the marching undead. I near him quickly, and as I do, he catches glimpse of me, waving me into the second to last vehicle. Before I can even contemplate my actions, I feel my legs hurl forward, and my body aim for the rear end of the vehicle. I take a moment to gawk at the innards of the construct.

There are two, long, leather seats attached to each elongated side of the vehicle. Tok, Darion and Saylem rest upon the bench to the left, leaving the right one for me entirely. One shorter cushion is situated behind the driver. It is there an unknown, tiny dwarf sits, squawking loudly to Tok. I hesitate momentarily to listen.

"Lad, where ye'been?" The tiny, wide dwarf speaks from beneath a thick barrier of red hair. "What have ye'been up to?"

Tok shrugs, "Same ol, mon."

"Same old, lad?" The dwarf inhales deeply, exhaling quickly, releasing it from his lips harshly, "Psssh, Brann here has been up to his old tricks, but ye, lad? Ye' don't have tricks up your robes like old Brann does his jacket!"

Tok sighs, "Speak'n of which, mon, wat card up dem sleeves of ya got ya' here?"

The dwarf leans back in his seat, letting his shoulders roll back over the top. He sits rather smugly, "I was here gathering data on all this shaking. I was going to find you to ask ye some questions about all this nonsense, but the Queen rustled me into this mobile prison! Old banshee, she is."

"Mon, she done da same tin ta us." Tok lets fall his staff. It slams at a tilt on his shoulder, "We be headed yer way from a combination of me stupidness, an'her rage, mon."

"Well, lad, we can figure this all out together." Oddly, the Dwarf leans forward, "Of course, ye sneaky troll ye, ye already know all about it, don't ye?"

Instantly, I snap my vision towards the troll. He know rests upon his staff. A strange sense of displeasure flowing after the most recent statement. What are you hiding, Tok?

"My word." A change of tone radiates from the dwarf's, "Lad, could that possibly be?"

Without moving, I know full well who he is speaking to. With a slight pause, I turn my head and lock sights with the beady-eyed man.

"Lad, ye definitely aren't as tall as Muradin let on!"

I cock my eyebrow in confusion. Thankfully, the dwarf notices my bewilderment.

"Get in, Lad, get in!" He uses his entire body to making beckoning motions, patting the empty seat and waving me with the other hand.

It takes me a few seconds to compose myself before slowly crawling up the back door, closing it behind, and scooting over to the vacant seat to the right. Almost instantly as I sit, the dwarf continues.

"Sorry, lad, forgive my rudeness!" He reaches his hand out, "The name is Brann. Brann Bronzebread. And I know all about you. Well, all my drunkard of a brother could spew at me!"

He laughs heartedly, quaking in his spot. The whole while his plump, little hand quivers in delight, anticipating my response. Reluctantly, I extend my grip, give Brann a shift shake, and watch him roll back into the seat.

"Lad, let me tell ye, despite what I have been told, I still have a lot of questions for ye. Inquiring minds got to know!"

It is then, as the multitude of eyes pierce my soul, that I realize they didn't leave this seat open for me out of sheer kindness. They left it so they could get a proper show of their clown. They left it so they could get a perfect view for their own audience. My eyes drift angrily from Saylem, to Darion, and finally to Tok. Yes, the infamous troll and his friend.

_You are the focal point of this forum!_

Let me tell you, Tok, I will not be the only one getting questioned. You have nowhere to run this time.


	14. Chapter 12: Through a Troll's Eyes

**_For Christmas, I decided to write two chapters! i will be posting the latter again at a later time, since it is the holiday season and all...._**

**_Not much more than that. Well, except for a nice little treat in latter of the two chapters._**

**_Lets just say, if you have been following along, you haven't read anything yet..._**

**_Enjoy!_**

**_

* * *

_**

_"In the light, you will find your true strength. In the dark, you will find your true self."_

_Tirion Fordring to his son before his exile._

* * *

A sudden rumbling booms from the frontal section of this machine. Two, tall pipes rise to the sides of the Dwarf's seat. They climb a short distance into the sky before coming to a slanted end. A heated burst of air rises, rippling the sky like water.

Grinding metal churns beneath me, the sounds of twisting turbines are loud and distracting. Rumbling pistons blare from the frontward portion before a thick cloud of brackish material bursts from the pipe's tops. With the puffs comes a swift jerk, and a loud cry from a figure in the machine directly in front of us.

"Roll out!" It is the undead officer from earlier, he too now obviously positioned.

Finally, one by one, we begin drifting forwards; the sounds of an actuating engine dimming to an ambient hum. Sadly, with the perpetual movement comes a voice from nearby – breaking my train of thought.

"Is it true, lad?" Brann draws my sight. Curiously, he pulls his hand together – ten, plump sausages linked as one, "Did ye…kill the Lich King with ye bare hands?"

The words collide upon me like the wave upon the outskirts of Undercity. I blink, letting the question sink in. Did I kill the Lich King?

_You kill him with your bare hands?_

Air drags across my nervous, stressed lips. Muscles on my chest tighten anxiety apparent within their actions. I exhale deeply, the response at hand.

"No."

Come on, Hope, do better than that!

"Well, no, not technically. I let him see the light through my palm, and he…"

"See the light, Lad?" Brann breaks his hands, throwing them upon his knees, "How does one make him…see the light…through a hand? Was it a powerful man-slap, Lad? Worthy of legend?"

A grand smile stretches across his face, clearly visible even through the amount of red roughage plastered upon his head – adamantly expressing the humor of his last statements. My eyebrows lower, a bit of distain and annoyance expressed subtly.

"I don't think I slapped him, but, well…" I run my fingers through my hair, "…I grabbed him and made him all…tingly…."

Brann's cocks a lone eyebrow, a strong sensation of confusion and puzzlement evident, "Lad…ye…made him all…tingly? That doing what now, lad?"

I throw my head down, yet glancing upward at him. However, before I can dare spew forth another word, Tok speaks.

"Mon, da boy has da powa ta siphon dark voodoo out of any body." He twirls his hand, motioning as if what he says is boring even to himself, "In place, mon, he done put da good voodoo spirit. Dat wat he do ta Lich King. Gave Arthas' last bit of his humanity quite da stiring."

He extends a lone finger from the one gripping the cane. Sadly, his digit is directed towards me.

"Go on, mon." He throws the side of his head as if to steer Brann, " Have a taste, dwarf. Let da boy touch ya."

Instantly, Brann throws his startled gaze upon the troll. Tok, of course, smirks sinisterly back at the little man – he obviously knows something I do not.

_You think that; I think he just is a creepy troll._

Brann glares angrily at the troll, aiming as if trying to fire lasers from his eyes. Oddly, he slacks his optics to briefly glance at me. He drifts back to Tok. Back to me. Tok. Me…

"Lad…"

He speaks, narrowing his brow. Promptly, he drags his heavy, wrinkled paw into the air.

"Give ole'Brann a good squeeze."

It would seem that Tok knew the mere thought of suggestion was enough to rally the dwarf. Tok, I will get you…

"Lad?"

His voice draws me to his hands. I cannot help but stare at his little, plump fingers. They flinch wildly, as if terrified of what is to come. Should I really do this?

_You just need to picture him as Sylvanas then it will be easy!_

Ok, now that is just creepy. I am going to get this over before you decide to put more traumatizing thoughts into my mind. It is then, as my chest tightens oddly, that I throw my hand outward – all thought lost in the wind.

Gripping his tiny mitt, I let a mild trickle of cold flow down my arm. It is nowhere near as noticeable of that of the Sylvanas, but nonetheless it is there. However, the other entity of this equation seems to embrace this experience a little more wholeheartedly than I.

Brann's jaw slacks. A lone eyebrow drifts upwards, a combination of terror, bewilderment, and any other state of surprise deem fit fills the void of his face. He stares onward for just a moment longer before quietly speaking.

"Lad…I think that is plenty." He smacks his lips together as if parched, "Ye going to make Brann here question his manhood if ye don't, lad."

Out of fear and the reluctance to discover the meaning behind that, I release my grip, and let the man roll his now sensitive palm into his other. He cannot help but glare at it for only a second longer before shaking his head.

"Lad, the Lich King, this…" he gawks at me, "next ye will be telling that ye really do have two spirits crammed into your body like a stuffing into a turkey!"

Without thinking, I let my lips part, "Only one now." I sigh at my own dreary remark, "Sadly, I can only listen to it bark at me now. When I lost the other one to the Lich King, I lost the nifty powers of them both."

I shrug, unaware of what I am exactly saying.

"Kinda makes me sad…"

At that very moment, I roll my sight upon Brann. The dwarf's eyes are as wide as the beads will dare span. His mouth hinges to his limits. He shakes his head before emitting a sound similar to that of a mild groan.

"My word, Lad. That is quite…"

Finally, he is able to compose himself, drawing his palm clear across his face and shoving it under his hat. There he scratches rather harshly.

"To think I thought I had seen it all."

Instantly Tok chuckles, "Mon, when did ya seem da planet quake like dis before?"

Brann throws his hands to his pants, nervously dragging them up and down his thighs. "Well, Tok, I believe I saw it before I heard this boy speak."

I make to laugh, but an overwhelming coiling of my chest muscles holds me firmly. It suddenly becomes difficult to breath. Suddenly, the edges of vision pulse, quaking violently. What…no…NO!

Not now…not…

My back slides against the seat. The other characters rest upon their places, two of which are lost in their own discussion. Saylem leans against the metal, snoring if I am correct. Darion, however, manages to glimpse my way before the world slowly turns to a disgustingly familiar teal shade.

"Hope! Wake…up…" His words fade with my visibilty.

Nothing you can do. Again, I was foolish enough to ignore the first signs. Again, I let this occur. Again…I failed to prevent…

_CLANK_

An unexpected, fierce throbbing sensation rolls across the top of my head, separating into individual ripples down the sides of my skull. Almost instantly, the green hue vanishes, returning the vehicle and all.

"Mon, no time for a nap!" Tok shakes his head, lips curling with his frustration, "Dis be no time for dat!"

I rub the raw, pulsing pain spanning across the vast of upper skull. Two fingers roll across the surface, delicately attempting to purge whatever ails me. Sadly, that troll hit me far too hard to hinder this anguish with my mere hands. Yet, at the same time, I am no longer falling into my hellish slumber…

Yeah, he stopped that. Rather exhilarating, if you ask me.

Uncontrollably, I smirk basking in the glory of what just occurred.

"Tok, thank you from preventing the…um…thing….from happening."

I expect a response similar to mine, but oddly, the troll tilts his head forward – pupils shifting to the top of the socket.

"Mon, wat might dat "thing" be?"

Oh, yeah…

"Well, since Icecrown…well…" I shrug, "…I just randomly fall asleep."

"Randomly, mon?" Tok stares at me inquisitively.

"Yeah, out cold," I whistle and throw my hand through the air, as if a crashing plane, "and straight into my personal, green terrorland!"

His eyes narrow, locking firmly upon me. "Green as in…emerald, mon?"

I nod, "Yeah, a shade of green. That is what emerald is. Right?"

As Tok hears those words, he squints, as if perusing my being for some unsought answers. Almost frighteningly, he drags his entire body forward, his yearning assaulting my soul. His staff uprights with his stiffening arm. He draws uncomfortably close…

"Tok," I push back into my seat, "Why are you giving me your creepy eye?"

Ignoring me, the troll pulls closer. Swiftly, almost blurred, he reaches into a small pouch at his side, rustles for a second and then ceases all movement. With one, eerie inhale he glares into my bemused eyes.

"Mon, dis gonna feel weird. Real weird."

Exhaling, he uses his raspy release to distract me from his upwards shooting hand. In a flash, he unrolls his three-fingered fist, fingers extending towards me. Resting in his palm is a strange pile of blue dust, just inches from his mouth. Then, to my dismay, he blows a puff into the powder, sending it flying into my face.

I cough harshly, throwing my hands futilely upward. Sadly, I quickly feel the dust take effect. All borders of my vision quiver wildly – ripples in my own head. An odd, gray tint fuels the outer edges, matching that of the quaking.

A sudden pressure is applied to right side of my head, and I find my skull twisting to the left. From the corner of my eye, I see Tok as clear as day, his hand latched to my face like a lamprey. However around him sit three, faded figures of the others. They appear as ghosts of their former selves.

A piercing stare radiates from Tok and punctures my inner sanctum – my very soul twists and thrashes within me. I anticipate a horrendous surge of fear, anxiety, and worse; instead, a cool tingle washes across the front of my face and creeps through my nostrils and mouth.

The same calming sensation tickles the back of my throat and penetrates all areas of my person. Thought process slows. Muscles lax. So…relaxing…

I can feel my head jerk to the right, but…who cares? Ahead of me roll three, long vehicles. Each one filled with plenty of…dudes. The front thingy follows a dreary, dark-gray trail. To the sides rest rows upon rows of hazy, dying trees. Mingled within the many lumbering, pretty…trees…rest old, stinky buildings…

All so…beautiful. Yeah…pretty…

My vision darts from the sweet surroundings, and once again, Toky's face aligns with mine. Man, that troll is crazy looking. All his…ears…and stuff. And what is with that nose? Its…so…nosey…

_You really are special…_

A sudden, rather discomforting shake rattles my being, and, in a flash the relaxing feeling fades, the edges of my reality focus, and everything returns to normality. Well, Tok, that was indeed…weird.

As I let feeling return to my rather disturbed body, I see Tok flop back into his seat. A rather concentrated sense of wonderment envelops his persona. His eyes dart to the floor, lost in thought. Three fingers curl around a gnarled staff, one tapping a beat. For some reason, I cannot help but grow uneasy watching him…

"Troll?" Confusion bathes every word Brann emits, "Tok, my friend, what just happened?"

The dwarf's words bounce meaninglessly off the focused shell of a troll. Whatever is going on within the troll's head is truly beyond all of us.

I see Darion flinch at Tok's side,"Tok? Did you…" He pauses briefly, "Did you absorb part of Hope's wandering powers?"

My eyes dart to Darion, a mild flow of annoyance blaring outward. I make to barrage the Death Knight, but Tok suddenly twitches, his eyes shifting upward.

"Mon, ya need ta know sometim." A remarkable surge of sincerity gripping his words, "Ya ready for dis, mon?"

My eyes focus upon his. Aggressive orbs dare try to penetrate his stern demeanor. All my being dares attempt to batter past his poker face, but no answers, no tells, no random, subtle revelations speak to me. Whatever he wants to tell me I am going to need to hear.

I, however, cannot help but express the epitome of bewilderment from each of my pours.

"Tok, I am sitting down…" I lean back, "…so, I guess I am ready?" Insecurity withers upon each word -- the foundation of this very comment.

Tok, however, uses my sense of confusion to ready his final release of answers I have so yearned for.

_You said it…_

"Mon, over da past few months, have ya been experiencing da strange sleeps?"

I cock an eyebrow at his unexpected question, "Yes, but…"

He interrupts me swiftly.

"Ya see, mon, about dat same time…deep, unnatural voodoos began disturbing me flow, mon." His free hand twirls, as if trying to tell me something, "It be den when I start me mediations."

An eerie, unnerving glare flows from his eyes.

"It be den…in me own dreams, dat I be having da visions." His lips curl, his stern demeanor intensifying, " In dese visions, mon, I see terrible things."

Promptly, he sits upright, throwing his free forearm upon his knee. He directs his weight downward, bracing his torso with this said arm. Carefully, slowly, he draws his face towards mine.

"Da earth stirred, quaking mad-like, mon, just like it has been fo months now." His voice deepens, the importance of his words apparent, "And, from a land unseen, a dark force done emerge, shattering da very lands demselves…"

His eyes dart to the left, aiming for Brann. They quickly shift back to me.

"Da beasty rose from da ashes of dis torn world, wings built of molten death guid'n da monsta into da skies!" Tok throws his arm into the air, "Drips of lava rained from every inch of da fiery beasty! Metal death cling ta his body like armor!"

An angry hand clenches, a fist of rage all that remains.

"It be da beast of a horror long past…"

He pulls his chest down, leveling it once again.

"It be da monster of da ages…"

His eyes narrow, his vision quickly sweeping Brann, myself, and then Darion.

"It be…"

Finally his eyes navigate back, his body twisting with them. A heavy shoulder faces my form, holding a solid head in place. A fiery, focused demeanor spread across a teal face…

"Da Earth Warder…mon."

"Impossible!" Brann instantly interjects.

"My visions no lie, mon." Tok pivots his head towards the dwarf, "it show him as clear as day. He done burst from da crust of dis planet, stirring all da elements into rage, mon!"

The troll throws his body slightly upward, his arm leading the lunge. Slowly, he recoils back into position. As he does, Saylem grunts.

"Really, troll? The Earth Warder? As in…the black dragon?" He puckers his lips and makes a harsh whistling noise, "Pssh, troll, like that…"

Without warning, a blur of a brown object shoots through the air, colliding perfectly upon Saylem's head.

_CLANK_

"Come on, troll!" He rubs his soar scalp, "I was gonna say it was just completely plausible. The Earth…"

_CLANK_

"Don't lie ta me, mon!" Tok glares at Saylem, "I can see through ya dark voodoo!"

The lanky figure preps a third aerial, cranium assault, but Darion throws his hand between the two and speaks.

"Enough!" Darion grabs the staff, pushing it back to the vehicle floor, "Tok, ignore the idiot." The Death Knight focuses upon the troll, "Are you trying to say that the Earth Warder is still alive? That he is going to return by…destroying part of the planet?"

Tok instantly loses all aggression as he throws his sight upon Darion, "Ya, mon. He gonna make da elementals mad, mon. Real mad…"

Brann exhales deeply, showing signs of disbelief and amazement, "Lad, that just seems…far-fetched…"

It is then I clear my throat loudly. Each figure twists towards me, their eyes burning down upon me. I grow a bit uneasy with them all watching me, but I can deal with it. I sigh loudly, and then scratch the back of my head.

From behind, I feel a slight pressure and a tiny horn appear in my sight. Squeals chirps softly, letting me know she is pressuring me as well. Thank you, Squeals, make me feel more uncomfortable than I already do…

_You cannot possibly feel any worse._

It is then I smirk and shrug, "Who is the Earth Warder? And what does he have to do with me?"

Instantly, Tok slumps, amazement and dismay smothering his prior determination. Darion simply shakes his head while Saylem rolls his eyes. From my side I can hear Brann chuckle softly. All them seem baffled, yet it is I who am lost in this entire discussion.

"So? Are you going to tell me, or…"

Suddenly, a deep, rolling chuckle surrounds us. It starts from behind me, flowing across the vehicle, shifting past us as if moving. A sinister beat flows from each diabolical cackle. I twist to discover the source, but I only find the forests to my sides, and a giant lake parallel to the side of the vehicle I face.

Just ahead, between this road and the body of water, rests a small, steep hill that climbs a short distance into the air. My vision darts quickly from it and back to my baffled companions.

It is then an unpleasant voice returns, sundering all peace and tranquility by simply existing. It is the sound of a figure thought lost. It is the sound of darkness itself. It…

"You know the answer, don't you, troll?"

I cannot see where he is. His voice echoes across every inch of land. It is as if he is truly everywhere…

"You know full well the entirety of this situation, yet you continue to deny it. How odd."

It is then I see rolling shadows drift from the road, climbing towards the small peak I saw seconds earlier. The darkness swiftly ascends the hill, aiming for the peak.

"You know full well the power of the Earth warder! The power of my master!" Suddenly, the dark cackling returns. This time, however, it is muffled, as if emitting from behind a sealed mouth. "Or maybe you have forgotten his power..."

An explosion of black, gray, and white radiates from the pinnacle of the stone hill. The sundered clouds shoot from the sides like plastic from a shattered balloon. Emerging from the spectacle, atop the tallest height, stands a figure -- its cape rolling down his side and creeping across the soil beneath him.

It is him…

The Dark General…


	15. Chapter 13: Only the Strong Survive

_"Fight my child. Fight until your body bleeds its last drop. Never run. Never or you may yourself unable to stop..."_

_An alliance father to his boy before the young one departed for the Second War._

_

* * *

_

The Dark General stands confidently upon the earthen mound. Every inch of his being emits an aura of chaos and destruction. . His words radiate across these lands.

"Let me show you, Troll, what you seem to have so eagerly lost! Let me show you, Troll, what you so willingly ignore!"

The man throws his hands into the air, fingers curled inward, yet do not form fists. His cape stirs wildly, slapping his body and the earth with full fury.

"Come forth, minions of the Darkness! Come forth, rise from the depths which the titans dared imprison you within!"

Black spirals radiate from his fingertips; streaks of gray mingle within the twisting coils. In the palm of his hand blare pitch-black orbs. They pulse, and as they do…the ground beneath us stirs…

It churns slowly at first, but the longer he channels, the harsher it emits. A second passes, and what follows can only be described as a large, sundering boom that bellows from behind. Noises of cracking earth, shattering soil, and rolling stones fill the air.

As I turn, I get full sight of a grand explosion. Flares of fury spew from a orange-illuminated spasm on the hill's crust. Lava bursts from all edges of the nearby sloping mounds that are just beyond the forest lines. Earth splinters to the rolling waves of red, orange and yellow. It rolls swiftly down the walls of stone, slithering downwards like sap from a tree.

Pockets of heat bristle from the surface of the rivulets of fire, while trails of smoke cling to all that is caught in destruction's path. As the river of terror reaches the base of the hills, pustules of molten wrath begin to form upon the glowing surface. They expand to grand limits before finally bursting, spewing pockets of molten goo in all directions.

Trees ignite while grass withers in ashen agony. A fire ignites, raging across the decaying forest. Alas, even the might of the chaotic inferno is dwarfed in comparison to that which churns near the lava pools. Nearly translucent, yellow boils blister upon the fiery river's surface. They linger momentarily before exploding. With the popping pockets of fire, come bulky, moving forms built of flame.

They form bulky, rounded bodies. Long, glowing red arms extend towards the ground; droplets of river falling from their limbs. Thick, yellow bracers form at the wrist, locking the mangled, quivering hands in their places. Near the top of the creature are visible a pair of burning yellow embers -- Its eyes…

They are Fire elementals.

Dozens of the beasts quake, their borders undefined, yet constructed by their quivering flames. Oxygen itself ignites as they shift through the churning forests. However, as they lumber towards us, the earth itself begins to shake.

Mounds of dirt rupture, stones rising upward from their once calm rest. Hundreds of rocks of all shapes and sizes lift into the air, dust connecting each pebble with unseen strength. The stones align upon a massive, central boulder -- a mighty, grainy torso. Each grit quickly finds its location, forming either a single leg for which to stand upon, or they interlock, forming two, thick, limestone arms.

Earth elementals…

All the constructs of nature's design direct their attention upon us. However, as they shift across the ground, pockets of sand, dirt, and dust pouring from their base, the earth elementals alter their paths. I catch sight of a lone Earthen halt its march, turn, sunder a mound of dirt from the ground and send it flying.

But it is not us for which the projectile is targeted. A fire beast is hit directly, its flames turning into smoldering ash. It struggles to maintain its form, but in a cloud of roaring smoke and sizzling embers, it is extinguished – leaving behind a set of golden bracers to verify its once existence.

Packs of fire beasts watch their comrade fall to the attack. Instantly, as if their motives are lost, they drift away from the road they once aimed for. Now, as Earth Constructs rumble from their resting spots, the fire beasts make to rebury them.

Fireballs and hurling stones fill the air. Roaring explosions and groaning fires become the norm as the two sides clash violently. I don't think that was supposed to be the purpose of this…

"What is this?!" The Dark General's irritated call confirms my thought, "Destroy the ones as commanded!"

I shift my attention to him. Surprisingly, he twists and bends, gawking helplessly at the spectacle below. Above him, dark, ominous clouds roll – streaks of lightning bursting beneath the gray blanket.

But what lingers overhead heralds nothing for the General. His eyes peruse the waters, and I too find myself throwing my optics in that direction. It is there, upon the banks of the river, where swirling, lambent cyclones dance across the water's surface.

From them spew spiraling constructs melded together from black, gray, and white clouds. Their bodies mold into downward and inward sloping cones; forming tiny tail tornadoes as their lone leg. Sparks of lightning dance from within the Air Elementals bodies . Each one is its own miniature hurricane, stirring the waters into frenzy via gusting winds spawned from their very forms. Finally, mounted upon the large central vortex is a smaller spiraling cone; within it are a pair of yellow sparks that pulse as permanent eyes.

These creatures skim the water's edges, making for an assault against watery versions of the fire elementals – water elementals, obviously. The aquamarine beasts are the same build as their fiery counterparts, except bolts of frosty fury fly form the quaking, rolling forms. Like the fire elementals, their outlines quake and find no definite borders.

"The master did not free you for your own gain!" The General's words almost wreak of desperation, "Cease your warring! OBEY ME!"

Hundreds of elementals ignore the man upon his fallacy of a throne. An aquamarine cyclone even dares defy him, breaking from its watery home, quickly churning brown and gray into its once clean structure. It dances across the earth, spewing Air Elementals as it moves.

I watch it carefully, but lose interest as we roll past the Dark General's once distant spire. Now he stands, amidst a war he never sought possible; his once grand army lost in their own internal struggle.

As he pivots upon his pedestal, he fades behind us, lost in our hasty movement.

It is then, Tok chuckles and stands up, "Mon, did ya think ya could control da elements? Ya no shaman, mon!"

The troll leans backwards, his hand bracing his hysterically heaving chest. From his side, Brann gawks in a hypnotic state at the raging elements around us. Darion stands near Tok while the manly Saylem hunkers behind the metallic wall.

"Men!" My eyes drift to the officer, "Shift to the right! WATCH OUT!"

Ahead, the undead points as the once wandering tornado barrels directly for our path. Trees uproot and stones shoot from the vortex like rounds from a cannon. It draws power from the clouds above, a never ending supply of fuel for its destruction. With each second it gains size. With each second and gathers strength. And with each passing second, it careens for the route we follow. The drivers of the front two vehicles alter their course as the looming destruction aims for them.

They bounce onto the grassy paths, but it is too late. Undead figures latch to anything bolted as the elemental fury rams perfectly in between the two leading machines. The back end of the front machine is sucked backwards, twisting and twirling as if weightless.

It draws towards the vortex's base, its wheels barely clinging to the road. After a second it is ejected outward – skidding off to the right side of the path. It slams into a small hill, where its axels snap and it comes to a smoking rest. In the same manner, the second vehicle is sent tumbling off to left side of the route.

Forsaken warriors stumble from their wrecked crafts, forming weak perimeters around the decrepit ruins.

"Soldiers, hold firm!" The officer shouts as he barrel past them, "Head south! Meet us at the gates of Gilneas!"

The warrior on the ground stare helplessly as we speed down the murky path. We leave them, alone, amongst a sea of elementals…to fend for themselves.

"Useless!" The General's voice lures me, "It would seem that if you are to see the light of our cause…"

His voice draws closer…

"Then I must show you the darkness of the shadow myself!"

I twist in time to see a blurred, black wall slam into the vehicle behind us. Tendrils of tenebrous design scatter in all directions, consuming every inch of the metal construct in a blanket of black. Muffled screams echo from beneath the rolling darkness – Forsaken lost beneath the cloak of stygian marvels.

A hunched figure stands upon the driver portion of the vehicle, the epicenter of the darkness. He stands as a cusp amongst the black, the mountain to the cascading flow of iniquity.

One leg locks firmly, while the other bends. A hand lands upon the bent limb, while another extends to the side; the cape rolling across the dark metal that is his glove. The same said cloak immerses all but the front of the figure.

His head starts facing downward, embracing the impact. Slowly, manically, it tilts upwards. With each passing second I can feel the darkness roll with his twisting neck. With each passing second, his eyes become visible. With each passing second…I can feel his merciless glare upon me…

Finally, his head is cocked as he wants it. Eyes focus with yearning desire, a perpetual barrage of unyielding disdain that batters my soul. From here, a sinister smirk is slathered across his face…

"Agents of the Marauding Darkness, your master beckons!" He bends towards our ship, readying to strike, "Bring me the Vessel. Kill the rest!"

He moves, but instead of assaulting, he leaps into the air; his very cape forming around him like legs of a swimming octopus. A burst of black consumes the figure; leaving behind a display of imploding darkness. Upon the wind itself, the Dark General vanishes into nothingness, leaving behind an uncontrollable vehicle…filled with unspeakable evils.

The truck swerves back and forth gently, its driver lost. Aboard rest twisted, black figures of once proud Forsaken. Like the Night Elves in my dream, these men too bear no face, no identity of who they once were. Now all that remains are bright red…eyes...

Three lumber to the edge of the metallic beast – their piercing glares locked fully upon us. They bend in unison before leaping into the air. Black trails glide behind the bulk of their forms.

I expect them to overshoot, but I am terribly wrong. In seconds they descend, emitting high-pitched shrieks of horrific despair. I climb to my feet, only to be beat by a lifted staff and burst of electrical sparks.

Three, coning arches of bright lightning lash from the gnarled stick. Each, jagged end careens upon the static-charged air, slamming directly into the heart of each beast. The sheer force of the strikes sends the three flying backwards -- far out of distance of us.

However, the victory is short lived. The four remaining lurch forward, their trajectories closer to the ground. Behind them rolls the lost truck -- black, pulsing rivulets running the lengths of its sides.

To my side, a flash of red is followed by an orange sphere of curling fire. Shortly after comes another tri-coned spark of nature's fury. The first figure engulfs into a fiery mess. The sparks slam into three -- sadly, one being the same as the first ignited. These three are lost, broken by Tok's might. However, the last one slams into the rear of the ship.

From here, the beast's dark pores seep disgusting clouds of shadow into the air. Its twisted head rolls upwards, forming a spire of shadow for all. Its eyes embrace me completely – its meal waiting. It jerks forward, all energy directed for the kill.

Unfortunately for it, Darion knows speed unmatched. The blue blade blurs upon the air, shifting with all might he can muster. It slices through the fragile beings body, carving a path of aquamarine as a reminder of what this blade truly is. A gush of black blood pours from the cleaved area, smacking sickeningly upon the truck floor.

It shrieks loudly before stumbling backwards and tripping out of sight.

"Gross, mon." Tok speaks.

I make to look at the troll, but a sudden call from Saylem lures me.

"Um, guys…" He points out from the ship, "We have friends…"

I follow his finger, finding only what I feared. Emerging from the sides of trees, the underbellies of rock piles, and wherever darkness lurks, comes the Marauders of prior – their red slits blaring war.

Bounding across the forests come the dark warriors. Dozens upon dozens of them direct for the two remaining vehicles upon the road. Dozens upon dozens speed hastily for our demise. Dozens upon dozens…attack…

"To arms, brothers!" The officer rallies from ahead, "Beat back these beasts! Beat back the trickeries of the Worgen menace!"

Worgen? Does he not know their true identity? Does he not know the true source of their evil? But in order to answer those, I would first have to question whether he knows as much as me, or possibly as little?

_You know nothing!_

"Get ready, mons!" Tok shouts to us, "Break dem baddies, me bruddahs!"

The troll braces his staff, sparks of energized wrath preparing. Brann pulls a large gun from his pack, loading rounds in one at a time. Saylem finally pulls his infamous cannon from his side as the mighty Darion locks his hands upon his blade.

I reach back for my shovel, spinning to the side behind me. A pack of furious Marauders bound across the forest, traversing its short area in seconds. I watch them, and as I do, a strange, icy sensation grips the bottom of my feet.

Just nervous feet, Hope.

I take a breath, but, oddly, the chill continues climbing up to the top of my shoe and spreading across my ankles. I ignore it, prepping for the nearing soldiers instead.

Sadly, the sensation cannot leave my mind. It quickly spans across my shins and calves. It is then, as the frosty chill passes to my knees, that a sinister voice of ole returns from just yards away.

"Mistress, bring me the pup!" In the corner of my left eye, I see an explosion of black form upon our driver's section, "The rest are mine!"

Emerging as my thighs begin to freeze, is none other than the Lord of Shadows himself. His cape clings closely to his body, my presence holding back the shadows. He holds himself confidently, a smirk shown as usual.

Horrifically, an icy claw tears at my upper thigh, and I am compelled to look. To my dismay, I watch as a pool of black forms beneath my feet. It gathers from the pool of the shrieking beast's blood, and grows up into a black, spiraling mess of mangled, black tendrils. It was a trick...he just needed the monster to get upon the machine. He just needed its blood to fuel the shadows...

They look as if silk drifting upon the air, yet they feel as cold as ice. Fear grips my soul. Anxiety mingles with stress to form a combination of undesirable proportions. Uncontrollably, I bat at the growing shadow, only to have the twisted, black tendrils whip around my wrists.

Surging ice ripples across my veins. Tendrils of twisting black lash across my chest with all due haste. Coiling black wraps around my arms like vines to a tree. I twist in my spot, trying to flee, but all I can do is face the others.

"HOPE!" Darion shouts in horror, "Get off of him, you…"

"No, mon! Dat be da heart of da Shroud, mon! " The troll stops the Knight with his arm, keeping the staff facing the General upon the machine, "Ya touch him, den it consume ya too, mon! Dere be nottin we can do, mon."

I fall to my seat, all feeling emptying my freezing body. I shiver uncontrollably, knocking a small, orange object to the seat next to me. There, Squeals bounces on the cushion a few times before rising to her feet. There, with a face of confusion and fear, she stares at me.

"Mon," I grow so cold as he speaks, "Be strong, mon."

Tok speaks to me as the shadows crawl upon my chin, "Fight da evil, mon. Fight it."

Why doesn't he help me? Why are they standing there? The shadows crawl across the back of my head, consuming the bulk of my skull. So…very…cold…

I reach upwards, praying someone reaches back. As the world begins to fade, five, lone fingers of my own design extend for the spectators of this ship. They reach for anyone willing, but are left smothered in darkness, bathed in shroud. It is here, upon my own seat, that I am merely the spectacle to the audience around me. It is here, alone, where the shadow consumes me…

A high-pitched chirp rings, and I twist as the shadows crawl across the edges of my lips. Squeals stands motionless, say for a pair of wandering eyes. She doesn't vibrate nor flay wildly. Her tiny tail curls towards her body, while a set of optics pour despair from every millimeter of existence.

Its ok, Squeals…I have faced death plenty of times before.

I jerk wildly, and gasp desperately as the darkness slides down the back of my throat; air sucked from my body. Be strong, Hope. As the troll said…be strong. You too Squeals. Be strong…

Come on, Death, show me the guiding light…you bastard…

Darkness consumes me. A sea of black envelops my open eyes. The chill of the shadow's clutches fades, an odd warmth returning to my flesh. I expect to be surrounded by hundreds of ghostly aberrations or an army of specters…but all there is black…

Tok told me of death once, but this…this doesn't fit its description at all…

Am I dead?

_You aren't…I would know…_

I twist, the rustling of my cloths booming to limits unknown. It is almost as if I am within a confined space, echoes bursting from any movement I dare make.

"Sweetheart…" A strange, recognizable, feminine voice reverberates loudly, "…don't be afraid."

I twist, but there is nothing. Her voice chimes from all directions, but there is no form.

"We have met once before, upon the hallowed grounds of the place you call Corin's Crossing…" Her voice is so…alluring -- but not that matching Sylvanas' blind wrath of a call, "You remember, dear?"

I twist again, attempting to decipher her location. But, as I do, my thoughts roam inward. They navigate to the time a day ago. To what seems to far away…could it really be her?

"Yes, you do. You cannot forget me, nor can I you." Her voice seems to localize. "I have followed you for some time now, dear."

A dull light radiates from behind. Quickly, I spin to find myself pitted against a figure yards from me. Coiling black tendrils climb up the lengths of her pale white flesh, wrapping around every limp and…her chest, and hips. They cling to her like silky sheets, matching her indescribable beauty -- beauty almost matching that of my Queen.

If I am correct, the shadows are all she wears, as she walks slowly towards me, hips shifting as only a temptress dare do...

A gorgeous, seductive smile forms upon her face. A lone gray strand of hair tickles the edges of her mouth, forcing my eyes upon the mesh of lambent fibers rolling across her head. A pair of bright blue eyes blares as brightly as her blood red lips…

"Since you left for your quest against the Lich King until this very moment, I have been with you…"

She comes to me, only a foot away. Her marvelous, elegant form quivers gently. Her eyes call to me. They are marvelous, but...no match to the ruby gems of Sylvanas.

"I have…studied you…"

She pulls her hands to the sides of my head, moving them seductively. Gently, he fingertips glide across the sides of my scalp, drawing hairs to their ends.

"I have…watched your every step."

Forcefully, she pulls her body to mine. Her bare flesh rubs against my clothing, while strands of black shadow bend around her and onto me. She draws a leg behind me, rubbing it…rather erotically across the area right below my buttocks.

"And I hunger for you…"

Uncomfortably, she shifts her calf into my rump causing me to flinch. Her soft, supple form presses firmly against me; rather...seductively. This is new. She giggles, her pearly whites exposed.

"And I have been sent…to end my yearning, to feed my ravaging famine."

She pulls her face to mine, her eyes sweeping across my very own optics. All while her hands dance majestically across the back of my scalp; just as my Queen had done.

"I have been sent…to kill you…"

Adrenaline fuels my body, but for some strange reason, I do not grow fearful. A grand smile stretches across her face as she reads me perfectly.

"But you know I won't. Don't you, dear?"

My lips part, dancing only inches from hers, "Why...not?"

Her eyes dart to my lips, her entire body calling for them. "Because…you are frail. Your soul is torn, a fraction of the man I followed." Blue orbs align with mine again, "How could I kill something so…wonderful…when it is not at its prime?"

I make to speak, but she draws a finger between her lips and mine, shushing me promptly, "Do not speak. Just listen." She retracts her hand, "Sweetheart, my honesty is hard to come by in these times."

I can feel her body quivering against mine…

"Even those who call you their friends hide from you the truth…the Dwarf and Troll dare not tell you all their secrets. They..." She suddenly glimpses upwards at something unseen, "He knows something is wrong…I must hurry…"

"What…"

"No talking, sweetheart." Her eyes come back to mine, "Get the answers. Find what they so willingly conceal."

The once grand smile fades, "Destroy that which is known as the Earth Warder. That which is deemed Deathwing. Destroy it before it can finish what it has begun…"

I sweep her eyes, attempting to find any answers to the questions I so need. But all I can find is desire, lust…beauty…

So, I let my mouth open again, "Why are you helping me?"

A gentle smirk forms briefly, lost quickly behind a set of quaking, red lips. "Because…you are the only one that can stop them…and they know it…"

She grabs my shoulder, "That..and... I needed to meet you."

Her lips seem so parched.

"I will need a fee for my aid."

Her body seems so fatigued...void of something it so desires...

"The price for my words…is…"

She shutters before swiftly pulling her mouth to mine. Soft, gentle skin glides across my own trembling lips. Her eyes roll backwards as pale lids seal them from anything but that which she so desires. Shock prevents me from closing mine, but...this kiss is overwhelming. It is so close to Sylvanas' that...I...

A mild sense of cold traverses from her form to me. Her nails dig fiercely into my arm and scalp, the sensation driving her body wild. Dismay fills my person, but slowly fades to the growing pleasure. She is so, very much...like...my...Queen..

_You forget of Sylvanas? You must…not…screw it, this is SPICY!_

Sadly, before the shock of her actions can fade, she releases, moaning and quivering violently. My eyes lock upon hers as they recoil back to normality. She lets her forehead slam against my chin, while her nails scratch my flesh one last time before she pulls away from me.

"I now know why the Banshee Queen stirs in her sleep…trying to forget you…" She sucks on her own lips, "Your touch could be so…addicting…"

Once again, her eyes dart to something overhead. She peruses the darkness for the unseen…

"Go now, dear. Go and bring that pompous jerk what he deserves…"

She throws her hand upon my face, her sweet touch overwhelming.

"Trust no one, Hope. Not even me." The world shakes, "You see, in the end, I will be the one to kill you. For I am the only one that knows how…"

Her voice dims…"Farewell, Hope."

It is then her voice, her touch, all of her fades from me. Following after is strong sense of cold, and the sounds of battle. Light trickles across the boundaries of my eyes as I try to understand what just occurred. Maybe I don't want to?

_You should maybe pay attention to what is going on around?!_

Instantly, my eyes whip open. My head is tilted fully backwards, my neck pressing against the steel of the machine. Passing overhead is a massive, stone construct. It shoots by quickly, but my eyes continue to follow it.

From here, I can see rows upon rows of stony parapets, and a part of a tilted, broken, giant metal doors. That is one hell of a wall…

"Tok, where is your strength now?" The dark voice draws my attention.

Without hesitation, I curl my fingers and find a cold, wooden handle in my hand. I twist my head, spotting a small, wriggling beast on the seat. Her grand eyes lock with mine as she jerks at the strap attached to my shovel. Squeals, I don't know how you knew to get me my shovel, or how you did it through the shadows, but girl…I owe you…again…

Leaping to my feet, I ignore the sudden burst of light-headiness, and let the scene fill my sights. Standing upon the seat of the machine is the hulking, tenebrous knight. His back is turned from me, while his arms extend in opposite directions from his sides.

In his left hand he grips Tok's staff, attempting to push the battling Troll to his knees. In the other is held a flailing, red bearded dwarf; he is clutched by the collar of his shirt. Saylem lies unconscious on the machine -- once again useful as always. Finally, Darion swings his axe against boarding Marauders.

Not an event of my choosing, but…it would seem, Hope, it is your turn to come to the rescue. Instantly, I pull back my shovel, lock my arm, and brace myself.

"Where are your elements to save you now, Tok?" The figure pushes Tok backwards, the troll unable to withstand the attacker.

Its ok, Tok. Be strong troll, Hope has your back.

Throwing my body forward, I let my strength, energy, and power beam into my spade. It whips across the air, sundering the sky. Kinetic energy guides it fiercely and true.

As it nears I cannot help but shout, "His elements are right behind you!"

Just in time, he twists his head. I catch a brief glimpse of the side of his face. I catch a brief moment as his lone eye targets the descending spade. I catch the smirk fade from his face…

_CLANK_

Sparks burst from the spot where the two metals collide. His head jerks forward, while his once grand grip fails. Tok stumbles from his dark clutches, while a dwarf thuds upon the vehicle's floor.

Swiftly, I recoil my spade, readying for another onslaught. However, as I brace my legs firmly, and draw force to my arm, the beast twists. Lathered across his face is what can only be described as utter rage.

Lashing from his body are the thrashing, black tendrils, fueled by a new source of steady iniquity. They ripple towards me, and I cannot help flinch -- stumbling backwards. Foolishly, I feel my right leg lock against a soft cushion. My left leg is still being drawn rearwards as I feel my right one buckle beneath me.

I throw my hands to stabilize my fall, but it is futile. My spine slams harshly against he metallic rim before I find the sky pass in and out of vision. In seconds a vast, green knoll consumes my optics. Sadly, it grows closer with each passing moment…

Unexpectedly, as I flip backwards, a sharp, dense pain radiates across my back. My legs fly over me as I bounce agonizingly upon the fertile soil. I feel my feet lock upon the earth for a fleeting moment before the rest of my person draws me down what I now realize is a short hill.

For a second time, my spine collides against the grass – this time, thankfully, I cease all movement. My eyes roll in their sockets. They shift in all directions, until finally they attempt to stare down my body and back to the road. I tilt my head upwards in efforts to view the truck. Just barely I can make out the speedy vehicle as it glides down its route, leaving me far behind. A black blur streaks upon the air as it hurries on…

I make to stand, but a sudden surge of blood rattles my mind. Muscles grow limp, and all thought processes are diminished to the escalating pain. The world grows light. All borders of my reality blur – this time not due to an urge to slumber.

So hard…to focus…

My head glides back onto the soil, resting for just a moment. Dizziness stirs my wounded being, forcing it into a state of uneasy quaking. I look to my left, and see nothing. I look to my right…nothing. Finally, I let my eyes roll forward, and I take a deep breathe.

Wait a moment, Hope. Gather your strength. Relax. Ok, there you go. Get to your feet.

Feebly, I drag my body in any direction willing. After a second of useless wriggling, I decide to promptly flip onto my belly. Calmly, carefully, I lock my palms upon the soil and lift myself up.

This time, thankfully, I do not grow light-headed nor dizzy. I take a deep breath before throwing my vision forward. Oddly, just feet from me, are three slabs of stone. They are lined perfectly in front of three crafted mounds.

On one is written, Lieutenant Jackson. To the right of that one is the name Knight-Captain Bristen Omel, and finally, etched into the furthest right is the name Colonel "Smitty" Volin.

I would recognize these sorts of stones anywhere. They are tombstones…

"Seems fitting, doesn't it, pup?" I leap to my feet as the voice startles me, "Amongst a graveyard is where you shall be felled."

I twist, embracing the dark figure only yards away. His dark cape bounces hungrily upon the firm soil. Mangled hands roll into fists…hatred curled into each one

"You will not escape me…not again…" He takes a step forward. "Like I said, pup, you will run."

A sinister smirk molds upon his cheeks, "And I will catch you…"

Standing amongst the field of the resting are two figures, destined to meet where only the dead dare play. Standing amongst a row of stones are two men, a journey at its end, the final confrontation at hand.

I pull shovel forward, despites the overwhelming, wearied form. He chuckles as I pull the spade to my front.

"Fight to the end? Admirable, pup. I will give you that, but your wounds are far to grievous for victory. " He rolls his hand so the palm faces to the skies, flickering his fingers to inspire my assault. "Come to me, pup. Let me end your suffering."

Without thinking, I hurl my legs forward. Wounded, tired muscles guide suicidally forward. I cannot help but attack. I cannot help but throw what remains of myself at the beast. My spade twists back with my preparing barrage. I will not win this fight, but I must fight! I must be strong!

_You must bring him fear!_

With all my might, I catapult my spade forward, like a baseball bat upon the air. It spins fast and true. It glides with all might I dare muster. It soars…until promptly halted…

My arms vibrate but do not break from the shaking weapon. Clutched firmly in one of his hands is the spade of my assault, while in the other is a gnarled fist. Before I can even react, the latter of the two ejects forward, colliding unmercifully into my lower ribcage.

I grow weightless, and all air flees that which is my own sinking ship. A flash of white blinds me temporarily before I find myself falling onto my back. A roaring, unbelievably horrific agony clenches my left side, and I cannot help but reel in pain.

So…hard…to breath…

_You must get to your feet, you baby!_

I draw in a pocket of harsh, seeping air. It feels as if none of it makes it into my chest cavity. Yet, despite this, I find myself rolling upon my stomach again – one arm still clutching the soar spot. Slowly, painfully, I pull to my knees.

I make to elevate higher, but I catch sight of the monster lumbering towards me. All rage, frustration, and irritation fading to the satisfaction of what is to come. I cannot fight him any longer nor can I flee. It is here, in a place only suiting, where I shall fall.

_TWANG, TWANG, TWANG_

Sudden, soft plucks ring a short distance away. Sadly, the sounds are lost to the thudding and booming roar of the dark being.

"The end is at hand, pup. You are…"

Before the beast can finish his statement, a whistle grows and fades into three dull thuds. Jerking uncontrollably, the General flinches to three perfectly landed strikes of what appears to be a missile attack.

Two sticks protrude from his cape while one clings upon the metal. He groans loudly, but increases his pace – his desire greater than whatever dares tamper his progression.

"You fools cannot stop me!" Two more twangs ring as he marches forward, "You will not stop…"

He yelps as two more direct hits sink into his armor. Stumbling upon his very feet, the general appears dazed by the perfect blows. Air passes in and out of his chest heavily, but are nothing compared to the beaming eyes that know only me.

Then, as he stands there, a set of bright, yellow lights align upon his being. He twists towards it, his frown returning.

"Curse you, troll! Curse you and your unyielding rabble!" The General falters to his side, "I will get the Vessel! You hear me, Tok! You and your allies will fail!"

An explosion of dark shadow consumes the figure. As it clears, he is gone -- vanished once again. It would seem that the General did not get his victory as so desired. It would also seem...we will have plenty of times to engage each other in the future.

Before I can truly begin to wander, a second set of lights sweep across me. I somehow keep myself on my knees, but I know I will not hold long. I pray that I can keep myself upright for as long as possible. With all the fight I have left in me, I shall. Just as I fought that monster of a man. I may not have stopped him myself, but I did not run. I did not cower. I fought, Tok. Just as you said. I fought. I was...strong...

"Hope!" I hear Darion, but a sudden, new, yet rather familiar voice booms.

"Stay where you are, Knight! You have done enough!"

I know this voice…

"I turn my sight from my own logistics for five minutes, and now I am three Siege Crawlers short? And don't think I know you fools are the ones to blame!"

And I know that ranting.

"Simply unbelievable!"

His voice reigns supreme as the second vehicle screeches to a stop. Seconds later are the thudding chimes of feet upon soft soil. I turn, facing the extremely bright lights. Amidst the piercing glare is a lone figure, his arm extended to my companions on the other vehicle. It is obvious from his outline that he is lacking a rather large portion of flesh – bare bone highlighted clearly. He wobbles as he moves, the cape on his back obviously too bulky for him. As he nears me he suddenly stops. He throws his sight upon my old vehicle. Oddly, he laughs heartily as he continues his route towards me.

"A troll, a death knight, a coward, and a dwarf?" The undead figure shuffles onward, shaking his head as he does, "I have no idea why you are here, gentlemen, but..."

The man comes to the edge of the light, his face finally revealed. It is then he looks upon me, his own train of thought lost. He slows...as he sees something he so recognizes. A deep, raspy chuckle pulsates from the undead figure.

"And what is this? An insect?"

A thick, green hood covers what remains of a man's face – no nose and flesh around his mouth. He folds his arms, rustling the thick, new cloak upon his back. A heavy, white frill nestles near his chin and quakes as he shakes his head.

"It's about damn time you showed up, Worm."

Disappointment bathes the words of figure. He stands above me, his shadow covering me fully. I form a weak smile as Commander Marris shakes his head a second time.

"About…damn…time."


	16. Chapter 14: Insanity for Everyone

_"No way in? No way in! Lad, with enough force and fury there is always a way in."_

_Brann Bronzebeard upon discovering Ulduar._

_

* * *

_

Tok slips a jar back beneath his robes, flicking bits of red powder from his fingertips as he does. He shakes his hand, airing it from the tingling sensation that he probably is experiencing at the current moment.

I, at the same time, rub the area that the Dark General so kindly greeted with his enraged fist. It glows a gentle ruby shade, the same as the substance plastered upon the troll's hands. It also procures a rather apparent tickling feeing where it lies.

He calls the stuff Da Gewd Joojoo;…I don't really know what that is supposed to mean. All I know is that it not only quelled the spiking pain, but it healed the shattered ribs and other internal injuries.

Shamans...healing wizards of our time…

"Worm!"

_PHWACK_

A rather forceful strike sends my head forward.

"Stop your wandering! Does this look like the time or place for such craziness?"

Rubbing the back of my, I glare at him as I reply; "You act as if I somehow control it."

"Worm," he wags his fingers at me as the vehicle bounces onward, "Don't you sass me. I have plenty of clueless drones scurrying across my perimeters doing that already!"

I make to reply, but the focused Troll has removed himself fully from the healing concoction now well hidden.

"Mon, da bruddah earned some crazy time." He shuffles upon the seat next to me, facing the lone undead upon the bench he so selfishly rests upon, "Don't ya be boder'n him, mon."

Marris locks sights upon Tok, "Shaman, just because you can heal grievous wounds and mend shattered bones that doesn't mean you your words mean a thing upon my lands."

Tok narrows his vision upon Nathanos, "Mon, just because ya be louder den a pack of Kodos and stinkier den dem don't mean ya words mean a ting upon da element's lands."

Glinting from his decaying eyes is a sign of this undead that I know all too well -- he is readying for a grand argument. This, meaning, that I can detach myself from the current situation, let the two rough it out, and lose myself in the grand splendors of my inner sanctum.

_You would do that! You are taking me with, right?_

My eyes naturally drift from the pair entangled in verbal war. They sweep over the driver's metallic canopy and wander with my twisting body. Behind me is the other vehicle of prior. Upon its fluffy cushions rest a dwarf, a human, and a death knight. They stare aimlessly in their own directions, lost of all social aspects.

I lose interest in them rather quickly, and I continue my targetless hunt. My head whips back forward, briefly consuming the enthusiastic duo spurring, and hurriedly finds the rear of this truck.

_You know it's called a Siege Crawler. You know, a siege tank hollowed out and stuffed with comfy chairs._

Right. Anyway, my optics consumes the drifting hills fading in the vehicle's haste. Trees twist and coil sinisterly, scattered sparsely upon the dark green knolls. A few tattered structures litter the landscape, adding to the already dreary demeanor of said terrain.

Only a short distance away is a small plot, rows of tiny stones shrinking with each passing second. It was there, upon the fertile soil of the peaceful dead, where we spent a great deal of time mending my wounds. It was there…upon the tranquil earth of the grave, where the last battle took place.

It seems so far away, yet is no more than half a mile upon the horizon. It was only minutes in the past, yet…I wish it would falter into nonexistence. It is real, yet all I dream is for it to be a dream. It…

"Worm!"

_PHWACK_

"What did I tell you?"

I recall to my position of originality. In front of me, the undead man slides backwards into his seat, a rather distasteful comfort radiating from his persona. From that location and posture I cannot begin to imagine how he managed to slap the back of my head…

_You know he has special slapping powers._

Shaking this idea from my mind, I attempt to reply to the undead menace.

"You didn't tell me anything worth remembering, Marris."

His eyebrows drag downwards while the remainder of his lips curls into a frown.

"I don't need to tell you anything of importance." He smacks a fist into a flat palm. "Those smacks forcefully inserted all you needed! Direct Deposit via my palm, Worm!"

"Mon," Tok instantly retorts, "dat didn't make any sense."

"What would you know, troll? You were so preoccupied tapping those centipede-like fingers upon that ghastly staff of yours that it couldn't be possible for you to consume what I was uttering."

Tok's face contorts into a mild fit of frustration, "Mon, dat rotten tongue of yas couldn't possibly spit out anytin above dat of a gibbering gnome."

"Gnome!" Nathanos reels forward, preparing for another oral assault, "Your mother's a gnome…!"

Once again, I shift from the irritating existence that is reality to redirect back into my mental wandering. I can see the two figure's mouths flapping unyielding, but no words reach my mind. Just how I like it.

_You said it._

Promptly, I find my eyes dancing across the depressing scenery once again. We roll up a rather sloping hill. A few moss covered boulders pass by our vehicles every few seconds. It is a thick, dark green hue that the rocks bare; intensified by the rather immense darkness of the heavy cloud cover.

Every inch of this land is bathed in shadow, the enveloping overhead skewing the terrain's true nature. The rock walls that grow in the distance are nearly faded in darkness, while the gnarled trees littering their surfaces are nearly invisible to the eye.

Strange buildings jut ominously into the blackened air, their slanted spires and shadowy walls resembling that of something most positively haunted. Even their windows reflect some strange, sinister light from their dusty frames -- something deemed almost impossible here.

I have been many an odd place, but this land…has buildings, flora and landscapes that make the Plaguelands seem cheery and vibrant.

It is then, as I gawk awkwardly into the vast nothingness this land has to offer, I feel the vehicle begin to slow. Not much of a trip. Explains how the two vehicles got here and back to me so hastily. We slow further, but I do not divert my attention immediately. As I can sense all the speed lost, I throw my sight forward.

Incredible…

The bulky piece of machinery halts upon the peak of a rather large hill overlooking a vast valley below. Amongst the low ridden terrain are multitudes of rolling hills that eventually lead to the grand sea and beyond. But is a top one towering mound where the excitement is. It is a top the grandest of heights where the sight lies…

A massive wall runs from one edge of the coast stretching across the base of a nearby mound until it finally runs into the tides and sand dunes. Buildings nestle behind the nurturing barricade, forming rows upon rows of pointed-roof dwellings.

A short distance up that sloping hill is another wall. Exactly as the first, there is a plethora of abodes behind this side protection. Finally, a third wall runs the lengths of the peak, forming a crown of stone and iron to give barrier to the only building that stands within its grasp – the Keep.

It is a remarkable structure, numerous towers lining the black and brown exterior. Iron-spine railings cover the balconies and form borders distant portions of the edifice. However, its spooky design is furthered by what swirls above its tallest spire. Dark clouds spiral overhead, as if called to the building.

Light dare not break the pitch-black collection of charred darkness. The entire blackened mass of clouds sits directly above the city's Keep, spreading to the outer edges, yet never losing its dense cover. This same darkness spreads out across the lands, strangulating this terrain of most of the light available.

It is as if a fire is constantly billowing smoke into the air, yet there are no visible infernos. It is as if the entireties of all Azeroth's shadows have gathered here. Gathered here…over the land of…

"Gilneas!" Nathanos leaps from his seat and dashes to the far edge of the peak, "The filthy bastion of Worgen man-dogs!"

He comes to a halt near a tattered tent – held upright by four rather unstable iron poles. Beneath the said canopy are a half a dozen important looking Forsaken gathered around a few tables draped with maps. They point feverishly at various locations upon said sheets and gabber endlessly until Nathanos approaches them.

It is then they all cease their current doings, rotate, and salute the man. Well, it would seem Nathanos finally has some place of power outside his own house.

_You know you liked him ruling your kingdom._

I see movement from the corner of my eye. Swiftly, I twist to find the three in the other vehicle descending to the darkened grass below. They scamper eagerly across the grassy land before I pull myself up and march to the edge of opposite seat. Hesitating briefly, I gather my will power before leaping over the edge.

Heavy feet slam against equally as tough soil. Grass crunches softly beneath my soles. Seconds later the sound is repeated, and I catch the tall troll adjusting himself feet from me. Suddenly, something slams into my back, but before I can check to see, I see a tiny horn emerge in the side of my vision – Squeals.

"Come on, Mon." Tok strolls leisurely towards the hut. "Let's get to da rotten fool before he explodes from lack of attention."

Without missing a beat, I take to the undead figure and promptly shift into the pack of gawking onlookers. From here, I can see fully what is occurring. Just yards away, stands the officer from our little venture – his troops eagerly gathered around him. They gaze down the forward facing side of this hill.

It slopes downward at a rather steep incline before briefly rolling upwards again. It is just before this cusp where a various barricades and structures are found. Within said rolls and up our hill side are numerous bunkers and fortified locations for what believe to be Catapults. They are small constructs that hurl green, sickly barrels at the massive, blackened walls and beyond. Skulls plaster the front of them – Forsaken owned.

Figures upon the wall's towers return fire, throwing fireballs, arrows, and whatever else can be used to destroy the enemy. A sudden explosion in the left side of my vision distracts me. The arm of a Catapult flies into the sky as the rest is left as flaming debris. Another lobber hurls a barrel forward; a cascade of disgusting slime perfectly bathing warriors on the walls. They leap and plummet to their deaths – apparently better than whatever covered them.

Another explosion to the right seems to anger Nathanos.

"Unbelievable!" He plucks his bow twice. "These alliance pigs are really getting on my nerves!"

I turn in time to watch his arrows glide down, finding and ending two soldiers as only Nathanos can do. The two victims stumble from the bastion and tumble to their ends. Those were some nice shots.

_You know he was off. You know he wanted to kill three with two shots._

"We had this city. Worm!" I am unwillingly forced to pay attention. "Do you see that eyesore of a Citadel?"

He points towards the city. I know what he is speaking of, but I am pretty sure from the way he glares at me that he wants me to look. So…I turn to the Keep…

"We were at those final gates…Worgen bodies paving the once hobble stone paths. We were there!" He curls his extended hand into a fist. "Then they came. Night Elves, humans…all those nuisances of gnats. Gnat's gnats!"

He sighs, leaning partially on his bow to display his disappointment.

"They pushed us to where we stand now; their leader mowing down Forsaken in droves. Had I not slit the throat of that filthy Night Elf commander personally, than we would be back at the Greymane wall, praying for reinforcements."

"Mon," Tok interjects, "Why are ya here? Why are ya attacking dis city if ya hate it so much?"

Nathanos shrugs.

"Because the rest of the Horde told us. Yes, because they said so! Don't get me wrong, I hate Worgen with every fiber of my being, but that's not the reason why I have an army under my belt. We need a port, and…Sylvanas gave me permission to take one…"

The undead tilts his head towards the city.

"I couldn't care less about this town. I just want to kill Worgen, demoralize alliance soldiers, and fulfill the Queens orders"

He sighs.

"Though, honestly, I think what this town needs is a nice coat of fire and ashen roads -- something to match the new cloud cover."

The man folds his arms as if proud.

"Thankfully, the plague barrels are having their effect. We will be launching what I am hoping is the final assault on this cursed land any minute now, allowing us to get out of this dump and to some place less…depressing…"

He throws his sight upward as If he can see through the canopy.

"I do not what stirred beneath these lands, but…" He pauses to look back to us, "Whatever it was brought those charred clouds. Whatever it was turned every moment into perpetual night. And I am sick of it."

"Lad, do ye mean these clouds just rolled in?" Brann squawks from my side, "There is no way…"

"Call me a liar again, Dwarf, and I will load you into a plague barrel and slather these walls with your bulky corpse." Nathanos rudely cuts the dwarf short.

Brann squints angrily at the undead man, "Lad, ye do know who you are speaking to, right? Ye talk to me like that again, and ole'Brann is going to break yer arm off and beat ye to death with it."

Nathanos silences instantly. Oddly, he leans forward, narrowing his vision to get a better look at the one that dared disrespect him. It takes him a moment to realize who it is, and strangely…he begins to chuckle.

"Brann Bronzebeard?" He tilts back. "Never would I have thought you would be crazy and dumb enough to wander so far into such a vast land of uselessness."

His few facial muscles instantly contort, seriousness gripping him again. I know that look. Something displaced has crossed his mind.

"Brann…speaking of which..." His words wreak of distrust, "Why are you here?"

The dwarf blinks twice before responding, "Well Lad, I am here to study the recent seismic activity. I needed to know what…"

As he attempts to finish his next statement, Nathanos interrupts him again.

"Studying…seismic…Brann, you discovered Ulduar, drove into its shadowy bowels, and almost rammed your foot down one of Yogg's maws." He swallows harshly. "And now you are observing quaking rocks?"

He lowers his eyebrows, anger apparent, "Don't lie to me, Brann. That is almost as bad as you calling me a liar."

"Lad?"

"Don't play dumb, dwarf." He throws his glare to Tok. "If you and the troll are both here, something is amidst."

Eyes back to Brann.

"Now tell me, what is within Gilneas of such importance to bring you, Tok, Darion, and Lord Crazy to these lands?"

Brann opens his mouth, but is incapable of speech. He studies the undead figure with complete concentration, yet secreting visual dismay. His eyes quiver within his sockets, any answers attempted to be drawn from the Commander all but naught.

It is then, as he is riddled with failure and confusion, he shifts his eyes up to Tok. The troll catches glimpse of the stare and peers down at him. The two lock eyes momentarily. They gaze as if reading each other's mind. Finally, Tok gives a weak nod and the dwarf recoils his head back to Nathanos.

If I am correct, then Brann just asked Tok for permission without saying a word. They truly are hiding something…

"Lad." Brann breaks my train of thought. "Lad, have ye ever heard of the Demon Soul?"

Nathanos cocks an eyebrow, "Yes, Brann, I know full well what that is." He glances to me. "You may, however, want to make sure you aren't speaking another language to worm there."

Thank you, Nathanos. A demon soul sounds like something I wouldn't want to bury...

Brann glances at me, "Lad, the Demon Soul is an instrument formerly known as the Dragon Soul. Many, many moons ago a dragon known as Neltharion constructed a weapon worthy of stopping the dark powers of big bad Sargeras' Legion."

He peers back to Nathanos temporally before returning to me.

"This same dragon managed to convince all the other mighty dragons to smash their powers together into the weapon, making what is to be formerly known as the Dragon Soul. Alas, this dragon…had tricked them all. This dragon had misled the whole crew. This dragon had forced the others to forfeit part of their power while he did not…"

His eyes navigate back to me. "Neltharion the Earth Warder, the same dragon that had convinced them all to make the weapon, had done so to further his twisted goals. You, however, may know him as Deathwing."

Brann shakes his head as if shamed.

"That Dragon brewed up a whole heap of trouble, murdering everything in his path with a simple swipe of the Soul. Unfortunately for the beast, as time progressed, the item of his greatness would begin breaking the dragon apart."

A stern demeanor sweeps his face.

"As he fell into darkness, body riddled with chaos, a barrage of crazy voices began beating at his mind like women at my door!" He smirks briefly. "It was believed as he sat, his body unstable, that a mess of evil beings began channeling to him. It was believed…the Old Gods had swayed his person. With that, the Dragon soul was no more – the Demon Soul all that remained."

Silence follows after.

Nathanos' grunt shatters the void promptly.

"And what does this have to do with anything? You just need to tell someone a tale of some forgotten event in some forgotten time?"

Brann lowers his eyebrows, disdain feeding his expression.

"Lad, if ye would let me finish." He fidgets. "What I am about to show ye, undead, will get even your undies unknotted."

Slowly, he moves his right hand to his chest. "The Demon Soul was thought to be destroyed, vaporized even. But…the Demon Soul is not lost…

A plump hand glides into his jacket.

"And that is why I am here."

His hand fidgets above his left bosom before suddenly stopping.

"I have seen the darkness of the Soul."

Brann's arm retracts out slowly.

"And it has given me a sign…"

In a blur of a moment, the Dwarf whips a small, purple package from hiding. Just barely, the magenta fabric folds from the core -- like the peel to a sundered banana. Beneath is a mere glint of something greater. Beneath is a small, golden chunk of metal. Beneath is…

"A piece of the Demon Soul in the hands of yours truly."

"Dwarf…" Nathanos forward, throwing his vision squarely upon the object, "…that is impossible, you know. Its ok to be crazy once and while, but this time…this time you match Worm in your insanity."

Brann chuckles, "Lad, I do know it was said that the Soul was destroyed in its entirety after its resurrection. But, Lad, I know this is it. "

He grasps the item in both hands, lost in its alluring sparkle.

"It is real, Lad. I didn't spend months in the ruins of Wintergrasp, studying endlessly, long after the ninny factions departed to kill each other some place else, to not comprehend what this be."

"Brann, you cannot be serious…"

"Lad!" The disgruntled dwarf interrupts him. "When you hold it with your bare hands…it speaks to you. It calls to you. It beckons your very soul. Five voices. Five…evil…voices. And with them comes a blur of a moment!"

He sweeps his free hand across the air mocking that of a bird in fleet.

"The entire life of this item burned into ye mind with just a flash. But there are two moments that truly stick out…two!"

His hand recoils, cupping the item, yet not touching it.

"The first is of Deathwing and his last stand at Grim Batol." He swallows nervously, "The second…the second…"

He cocks his head towards Gilneas. "Of King Greymane himself."

"If this truly is part of the Soul, isn't its taint far too great for us to wield? That and, why do we want the Soul if the dark voices are still present?" Darion speaks for the first time in a while. "Shouldn't we destroy it...end its shroud permanently?"

Brann fidgets angrily, as if offended by Darion's word. "No! If we can resist its lure, then we can possibly discover vast pools of history from its core! We may even figure out how these Worgen came to be..."

There is a moment of complete silence. Using this time, I cannot help but scan every face available. Every last undead, troll, and dwarf are scanned. And from their expressions, I can tell that no one here believes the dwarf is telling the truth, nor do they seem to care what he says. I guess the item isn't as important to others as it is Brann.

The silence is shattered by a sigh from Darion.

"Brann, what exactly are you saying?" He subtlety spells insanity for the dwarf.

Brann, however, continues on.

"Lad, this item is linked to the King, which means something of late connected him to it. I must know what that event is, lad. I must know…"

Nathanos taps the end of his bow into the ground, "Wonderful. Just wonderful. I knew if Worm was here that what was to come would make no logical sense, and in turn drive us all into some mindless hunt what will eventually spawn something of terrible magnitudes."

He turns back to the city.

"Worm shows up. Terrible clouds spawn moments prior. Blast it, Worm, you cannot get even the sequence correct!"

He twists back to me, reading my confusion completely. "You are supposed to show up THEN evil. Epic failure, Worm."

"Nathanos, what are you talking about?" I attempt to decipher what just occurred…

"I don't really know, Worm. All I know is that Brann's and your insanity are both affecting my own."

Brann clears his throat, and Nathanos glares at him.

"What?"

"Well, Lad, in order for this to make sense…I need to get into the city…"

"Ok, go ask to be let in. I'm sure if the Worgen don't kill you, or friendly fire from the ignorant masses of Forsaken doesn't maim you, then the Alliance will just welcome you cheerfully."

"Lad…"

Nathanos sighs. "You are serious, aren't you? Well, fortunately for you, I also have an undying need to trample the gates and find King G myself. And I will take you along to humor your misled expedition."

He pivots upon his soles, sweeping the multitudes of troops beneath him. Boney fingers rise and roll across a rotten chin as the undead figure begins to think. I believe he is actually taking that request seriously…

"Well, my troops do look eager and willing. And let me tell you, I am sick of standing on this hill…."

Unexpectedly, he whips to his right, exiting the canopy and marching towards another a sort distance away. This one, however, has four draping walls that block whatever is inside.

Nathanos shouts and waves at a lone Forsaken wearing a pair of glowing goggles.

"It is time, engineer! Get it ready and bring it over here!"

Obediently, the figure dashes underneath the tent, vanishing from sight. From within, a strange concoction of grinding and screeching metal fills the air. That, however, is lost to the cry of the booming Commander.

"Forces of the Forsaken! Warriors of the Forgotten!" Nathanos shouts to his soldiers. "The time is at hand! The time for this war to end is NOW!"

As he speaks, a loud, rumble rolls from our side. Metal churns angrily, while sounds of rolling wheels fill the air. I turn as the undead shouts again.

"I will not bore you with some fancy speech!" He turns. "Let the fury of blades, the accuracy of our weapons, and the might of our resolve do our talking!"

Appearing in the corner of my vision, is a tan skull. Beneath it…is a set of churning wheels…

"On my command, let the Rage of the Blightcaller rally you to victory!"

It is then that he darts to his side. He leaps upon a rather bulky catapult that has some unique features. Nathanos climbs into the standard driver's seat upon the right side. The vast of the machine appears the same, except for a three seats strapped to the top and side. In addition, in front of each cushion is a small cannon – armored sheets extending vertically from the sides.

Nathanos' customized ride…

"Get in, you fools!" Nathanos waves angrily at all of us.

Darion wastes no time, sprinting towards the seat extending from the right – opposite of the driver's seat. Saylem sighs and reluctantly drifts towards the middle seat. I kind of hoped he disappeared into the forests or something…

Finally, Tok, Brann, and myself rush towards the rear end, gawking at the last remaining seat…for the three of us.

"Mon, dere not be enough seats…" Tok leans on his staff as he speaks.

"Don't you worry, Troll." Nathanos waves at the goggle faced figure of whom dashes into the canopy and returns promptly carrying three large backpacks. "There is plenty of space for you!"

The figure nears us and lifts the sacks. One by one we take it from him, strap it to our backs, and stand still. Nathanos then nods at the man again.

"Tok, get in the remaining seat, and dwarf…" he scans his vehicle, "…oh, put that little man in the catapult! Perfect fit!"

Brann makes to respond, but the goggle bearer grabs the dwarf, and forcefully lifts him into the air. As he rises, the pudgy man begins to flail widely. The undead loses balance, but Nathanos grabs hold of Brann's legs and aids him into position. However, as he is flipped into the cupped holder, a small, gold object slips from his hand and glides to the ground.

Uncontrollably, I reach out, hands ready for the piece of metal. It bounces from one crossbar, and then spins off another. Finally, as it nears the base of the machine, I let my fingers wrap around it.

A sudden rush of cold fills my body…and what follows blinds all sight. Images shoot past my eyes, whipping as if I am witnessing a life before my own optics. I cannot make out anything, all blurs and brief moments of time.

I blink, but the images persist. It is horrific, no where near as grand as the pompous dwarf dare make it out to be…it needs to stop!

_You cannot stop what has begun…_

My hands lift to my face, but I cannot see them. I rub fiercely, but it cannot be tampered. The voice speaks the truth; I will have to watch unwillingly. Dozens upon dozens of flashes send me stumbling in a circle. None of it makes sense…none…

Until it suddenly slows.

For a long, lingering moment a single scene fills my sight. A massive, black dragon, wings dripping fire and lava from their surfaces, flees into the skies. Behind him trails a few dragons of varying colors, each one dauntingly pursuing him. Deathwing…the first image Brann spoke of…

Suddenly, another sight consumes my eyes. It is of a large man, red hair draping his chin and head. Bulky limbs give height to the barrel-chested, bear like figure. He stands in a large room, shadows surrounding him. Giant stone figures fill the space, assaulting a dark figure in the center…the second sight…

_You must kill the dragon!_

_He has to end the rein of Deathwing!_

_Stop what has begun! Stop the darkness!_

_Fear the shadow! Fear the Darkness!_

_Aid the elements! Free us so we can stop him!_

Five voices assault my mind. Each one bearing a unique voice as its own. Each as haunting as the Lich King's call. Each voice echoing within my mind, constantly repeating, constantly overwhelming each other.

Finally, as the horror seems to intensify, my vision returns. Before me, Brann reaches down, but is lost in my wildly blinking eyes. I lock oculars with him, and I know instantly what he is thinking…

"Lad…" His fingers fidget, "…did ye see it? Did ye hear them? Tell me that ole'Brann aint crazy."

My body flinches, and I look at all those surrounding me. Oddly, none of them seem to have noticed my display, or what I assume was a displaying. Darion fights with his cannon while Nathanos plays with the controls. Saylem sits impatiently, but as I peruse, I notice Tok staring straight at me…

I break my sight from him, and gaze back at the cheerful dwarf. All I can manage at first is a nod, and then I extend my partially numb arm to the dwarf. A sudden surge of ice hits my body, and a random call hits me…

T_hey lie to you! They wish to be free! Each one wishes to be the Last God! Stop them!_

Warmth bathes my body as the calming chant fades. It was a sixth voice…

"Lad?"

I look to Brann, hand him the stone and nod. As he takes the object in the purple cloth, he stares at me with the curiosity of a child. I cannot help but reply…

"Yes. I saw it all." I make to tell him of the last occurrence, but a sudden surge of distrust fills my being.

They have been lying to me. I am going to save this for myself. Maybe I can use it to have them tell me what I want to know. Maybe…

_You must be careful what you hold as your own secrets…_

Brann folds the stone in the fabric and tucks it safely away. He then giggles like a school girl.

"Lad, when we get ta the Keep, I must know what ye heard! I must!"

As he turns forward, lost in his own thoughts, I pivot back to the machine. A strange sense of insecurity and fear grips my body. I do not know what just happened, but it was extraordinary. Brann truly has what he said he did...

Unexpectedly, a distant rumble fills the air. Almost as if a far away thunder managed to roll all the way to these lands. It is an omen, I am certain...

"Worm!" I look to Nathanos. "Crawl headfirst in that port hole right there! I need you for a special position!"

Without hesitating, I move forward. I cannot find what I need at first, but then I see a horizontal hole, just barely fit for myself. I sigh, and grip the edges. However, as I make to enter, I feel the piercing glare of unseen eyes.

Uncontrollably, I glance upwards, and catch the accusing eyes of Tok – seated behind his gun. As I look at him, I cannot help but shake the feeling he knows I am hiding something. Instantly, I return the same stare. Get used to it troll, the distrust is mutual.

At that, I crawl forward, and position myself in the belly of the beast. I have just enough room to sit up, and stare at through the skull's mouth and eyes. I can also rotate my head enough to see the land around me. At each side of me is a long, red cylinder…I wonder what those are for?

"Don't touch the red buttons, Worm! Not until I tell you!"

Instantly I gaze downwards, finding a set of large, red buttons beneath a piece of glass. Squeals leaps from my back, ejects towards the buttons, but lands on the metallic jawbone. There she peaks out and vibrates wildly. She seems rather anxious.

A sudden jerk and screeching metal alerts me to our movement. Looks like we were ready.

"Champions of the Forsaken…bring them hell! Rain plague upon their walls!" We roll forward, reaching the start of the incline. "Death to the Worgen. Death to the Alliance!"

His call echoes upon the skies, a raspy rumble of a figure so deserving. Following are the calls of a thousand warriors and the chimes of a dozen catapult's launching. I can see barrels coat the walls with ooze, sending troops fleeing in terror.

My stomach clenches as the vehicle tips forward, and gravity answers the call of a crazy forsaken. With each passing second we barrel onwards. With each passing second we gain haste. With each passing second, the city nears…

Battle cries float from each undead mouth, while the screams of frail enemies are overwhelmed by our fury. In seconds we round the end of the first incline and roll up the second.

As if cued, a mighty explosion sends metallic debris and wood into the air. Falling fast are a pair of grand gates – their strength lost as they slam into the ground. It is then, as the gateless entry draws ever closer that I realize what is going on…

We are speeding, headlong into an enemy city with an army behind us. We are hurtling towards enemy territory…and Nathanos is at the wheel.

What were we thinking?


	17. Chapter 15: Enter the Darkness

**Hello everybody,**

**Just stopping to thank you all once again. I am also writing to let you know this chapter is rather lengthy, but...rightfully so...**

**I, personally, take pride in this chapter...so...**

**Stop reading this and enjoy!

* * *

**

_"Hahaha. Dwarves..."_

_Deathknight Saurfang._

* * *

A distant rolling thunder chases our assault from above; the clouds themselves trailing behind our grand siege. Arrows whiz past the round, armored vehicle. Fireballs hiss and crackle upon murky air. The defenses of this grand city fire yet are unable to pinpoint the exact movement of our machine.

With their weakness, with their inaccuracy, and with their failure comes the fury of our strike. The first of our cannons to plant death's seed is that of Darion's – molten metal sent hurling at entrenched soldiers.

The round lands perfectly, sending broken figures whipping in all directions. Another shell glides from the infamous Saylem. Again, a weak explosion follows and rips a hole into the troops daring enough to hold the gates -- unfortunately for our enemies, even this fool has precision of excellence.

We approach the frontal barricade in a matter of seconds, but before we even arrive, the few brave warriors spin and flee – a full route of our enemy. Alas, their escape pales in comparison to the remarkable velocity at which we glide; almost as if we are hovering upon the very air itself.

Once proud soldiers, once noble heroes, become mere speed bumps to our progression; nothing more than weak tampers to our assault. We bounce across their frail forms, their screams slowly dimming as we swerve hard to our left. I cannot help but feel disgusted as Nathanos plows through their lines, running them down in droves.

_You can hear the sickening crunching of their bones. You can hear the crushing of their bodies…_

Enough! I get the picture…

Screeching wheels barely keep to the firm hobble stone paths as the catapult makes a harsh turn. My body is thrown around within the internal cage of which I am confined. Metallic objects ram into various locations of my body, sending surges of pain across my flesh.

Arms wrap firmly around a cold cylinder. Muscles tighten and align to the shifting machine. Eyes drift upwards, wind thrashing and harassing them mercilessly. Resting on their platforms, cannons silenced, are the others of this joyous ride.

Darion tilts to the right, his cannon no more than a mere base for their stability. Tok coils beneath the armored sheets. Saylem slides across his very sheet, barely capable of holding on. Brann clings for dear life. Nathanos, however, spins a wheel underneath his chilled, bone fingers. As he does, a deep, raspy chuckle violates the situation at hand, and, fortunately, the catapult slows significantly.

"This is what I call a ride!" A swift jerk and sudden shaking follows the catapult's realignment into a straightened path. "Wooooheee!"

Brann squawks loudly after Nathanos' cry.

"Lad, not all of us have nice seatbelts!"

Nathanos promptly ignores him.

The crazed driver throws a lever forward before slamming his foot to the floor. Metal gears grind all around me, their actuating functions fueling the stressed engine. From behind, overwhelmed by the mechanics, are what appear to be the cries of enraged warriors.

I throw my head to the porthole behind me, and watch as hundreds of Forsaken troops pour through the sundered barricade. Bloodlust drives their motives, blades thrusting and slashing wounded enemies where they lie.

They show no mercy. They show no remorse. They only show…hate…

"Follow my lead, Forgotten Soldiers!" Nathanos bellows as the craft regains speed, "rally to the Blightcaller! Crush these insects beneath your rotting feet!"

Troops sprint down the bending path we lead, their blades still hungering. However, the boom of a firing cannon draws me forward. Flame trickles from the muzzle of Darion's cannon – his evident guilt.

Another roar screams from the bellowing weapon that is Saylem's. A brief second elapses before a grand explosion tears a hole into another line. Once again, alliance defenders attempt to rally upon a preset line of defenses; it would seem that our attack was too swift for the soldiers to even place a proper footing.

A third ring of a rumbling gun chimes from Darion again. An explosion sends the fear into the soldier's souls. Saylem fires. A pillar of fire shatters the morale of the remaining troops. Darion delivers a deadly message. Saylem drives the spike into their hearts.

Swiftly, we navigate a winding bend, gliding onto a steep incline leading upwards. My eyes drift between breaks in their frontal skeletal mask. Streaks of light sweep my face as the rattling craft tilts upwards and…

Starring down the slope, aiming firmly at our vehicle, is a massive ballista.

Muscles fiercely tighten. Veins pressurize, my heart signaling for alert. Sweat builds upon a nervous brow. Fear creeps across the vast of my body as the giant spike slides into firing position. Dismay displayed as the enemy prepares for assault…

Darion shifts upon his seat. Saylem flinches, unable to react. Nathanos makes to out maneuver the strike, but the craft is incapable. Tok pivots and locks firmly. His arms shift, his shoulders direct, and his fingers squeeze the necessity.

A round glides from the fiery inferno of his cannon's tip. It soars upon the skies, rippling air in its path. Soldiers behind the siege striker strap the final string that will pluck our demise. But their speed is lost to the already spiraling projectile.

Flares burst from all sides of the rolling sphere of raging fires. Black clouds jerk and bend, the energy captured from within their churning released. Slivers of sundered wood ricochet across the skies, slicing and maiming soldiers wildly. Unwound cords snap and wriggle harmlessly from the inferno that is its core.

The ballista, engulfed by the cannon's rage, is no more…

Alas, as its body lies broken, its threat is not naught. Flipping end over end upon graceful airs is the long, wooden spear of the doomed weapon. It spins in our direction with all force it holds. It spins in our direction before promptly descending and slamming into the stone path.

The perfectly carved spear tip digs properly into the hardened path. Vibrations send the wood spine into a quivering frenzy. But all its movement is lost in its placement. For it is lodged only yards ahead of our exact path -- blocking the route with its bulk.

Nathanos skillfully spins his wheel, tilts his throttle, and lifts his levers; unfortunately, our momentum and hasty acceleration shall prove to be his downfall. Within seconds, as the vehicle attempts to swerve to safety, we arrive at the impact spot of the ballista's round.

Screeching grinds and quaking wood sends shuttering agony down the halls of our craft. My body lifts completely from the base and falls to the right as the vehicle rams the spike and tilts upwards to the left.

Darion clutches the cannon seat as he finds himself unwillingly thrown into the air with the vehicle. Tok clutches his arms to embrace the falling knight. I, sadly, collide into the annoying metallic cylinder again and am left dazed.

Harshly, we jerk to the right and with a landing crash we find ourselves barreling down an unexpected route. Nathanos tactfully realigns the wailing craft and sends us down a level path. We swerve a few times before finally coming to a full, straight path.

This time, however, we do not accelerate as prior. No, at this time, we simply drive at a mild cruising speed down this new bending path. I reposition myself and gaze back out the front port.

Slowly, we roll towards a large, circular stone courtyard. In the center is a beautifully crafted towering statue of a large man. The figure is bulky in form: massive limbs, a large, barrel chest, and a stern, commanding demeanor. A full beard runs from his chin under his booming eyes that stare outward from the center of town.

I have seen this man before…

"Darion!" Nathanos shouts as we roll up to the statue, "this eyesore is in our way!"

I hear gears grind from Darion's seat, "Then let us remove it, shall we?"

As his words finish rolling from his tongue, the knight's cannon continue on to do his talking. Two rounds are ejected swiftly, each one tearing into the ankles of the looming figurine. The stone structure shakes and rocks to the shattering stone near its base before finally cracking at the knee and tilting off to the side.

It takes only a brief second to crumble to the flat courtyard behind. It takes only a brief second to bring the man from his towering stance to a destructive waste upon the ground…

"Good riddance." Nathanos speaks rather softly and confidently. "That joke of a statue was festering to my eyesight like a boil on my rotten foot!"

The craft rolls up to the inclined base of the statue, crushing bits of the fallen figurine beneath its heavy wheels. After a second, we roll to the side and aim towards the heart of the city.

Nathanos stops on the incline, giving us a slight tilt as we come to a complete stop. It is there that Tok sighs and speaks.

"Mon, did ya have ta say dis statue was a boil on ya foot? Dat be an image not even my gut can handle."

Nathanos grunts and jerks at a lever, "you are obviously unacquainted with the fine fancies of my natural beauty. What a shame, I always thought you were a man of good taste."

A green blare bursts from a port near Nathanos. It rises into the sky, a bright green ember burning upon the darkened air. It floats outwards. A signal for something unseen…

"Mon, I done know nature. And let me tell ya, mon, ya ain't beautiful."

"Hey, troll, just because I don't have a massive snout and night elf ears don't mean I am not beautiful."

Tok makes to speak, but I suddenly find myself distracted. In the corner of my eye, just barely visible through a slit of light radiating from a crack in this vessel's hull is a spark. I adjust my vision, and quickly find myself staring at something rather peculiar.

I cannot help but stare at it. I cannot help but gawk at it. I cannot help myself…

It is as if it is calling to me, beckoning me. What I see in the distance is a dim flash of orange and red that just barely penetrates the thick cloud cover. It is just a small spot, a tiny speckle amongst the sea of darkness, but I can definitely see it.

_You stare at it like a crow to a shiny object._

And as I do, I believe I can hear a faint rumble booming from it. Following are a few bursts that come from behind. Instantly I am drawn from the strange spectacle and shift my vision back to Nathanos. He speaks as I lock eyes on him from within my tiny prison.

"Ok, gentlemen, I have been planning this like clockwork! Fine, goblin clockwork!" His arm lifts and a lone finger extends outwards, "That was the easy part! They were not anticipating a grand assault from the all-mighty me!"

He shifts his arm up and down to further gather our attention.

"But I digress, rightfully so. You see, from my constant arm wagging, that I trying to get you ninnies to look that away." His pauses briefly, "I'm talking to you, Worm."

He doesn't even glance my way, yet he knows. So, with that, I sigh, and throw my sight towards the direction of his arm. Ahead of us are rows of finely placed dwellings that are located behind a thick wall that shadows us currently.

Directly ahead is a road that once again inclines upwards. At the top of said ramp is a massive, iron blocker that seals us from the second tier of this city. Running from each side of this gate is the second wall I saw from earlier.

Fur-covered men scurry across the bastions of this wall, preparing for our continued assault. From their numbers I can tell that they are recovering from the unexpected onslaught Nathanos spoke so highly of.

"In a few seconds, the artillery rounds shall bathe this wall in marvelous plague, blinding and suffocating these bipedal wolf babies where they stand!"

I redirect my sight at Nathanos. The undead man jiggles a random lever as he speaks.

"You see, once the firepower that I just called for knocks down these gates, we are going to ride straight into heart of this hellhole, walk up to the gates of the citadel, and declare this city our own!"

Saylem sighs heavily, "And we just going to do this like you said?"

"Woah," Nathanos pivots in his seat, "why in the world are you speaking? Do it again, and I'll hurt you…"

_CLANK_

Interrupting him is Tok's staff slamming into Saylem's cranium. I can just barely see the man rub his head and slunk into his seat.

"That works..."

Nathanos nods promptly and then oddly throws his arms into the air.

"About time you lazy fools show up!" he stares to his left, "what am I paying you slugs for? You aren't even carrying my luggage!"

I throw my vision and take in the sight of the Forsaken soldiers flooding into the area around us. As they do, a high-pitched whistle rings a dozen times. Following is the chiming of grand explosions and rumbling chaos.

Ahead of us, the gates are engulfed by fire and flames.

"About time!" Nathanos jerks at the odd lever again before chuckling, "Ok, now for some insurance."

He glances to Brann, "Dwarf, you see the red chain on your pack strap?"

"Eh, yea, lad?" Brann shuffles in his cup seat.

"Pull that the minute you begin to descend.'

"Lad?"

"On your parachute, pull it as you begin to fall." He twirls his hand, "you know, to save you and all."

"Laaaaaad?" His voice intensifies.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that what I deceitfully gave to you three were parachutes. If three of you got it, you wouldn't question it, Brann."

Nathanos cracks his knuckles.

"When you get into the Keep, give us a good word, k?"

Brann sits upright.

"Lad, what are you about to do?"

Nathanos throws the lever forward right as screeching metal signals the collapse of the gates.

"Fly, my pretty, fly!"

A loud locking sound is preceded by churning gears and tearing mechanics. Brann fidgets upon his seat as it lowers into position beside me. The arm locks in place with a thud and Brann looks to me than glares at Nathanos.

Before the Dwarf can speak, an obnoxious click unlocks the tiny man and sends him and the arm forward. In a blur of a moment, Brann is sent hurling into the air; only screams and enraged hollering are left behind.

"CURSE YOU, MARRIS!" His words drag with his flight.

In seconds the small figure diminishes into a mere dot upon the skies. As I watch him, I can feel the vehicle beneath us begins to actuate again. From the corner of my eye, I can see Nathanos prepping his controls and Darion manning his cannon.

Looks like we are headed in…

Wheels grind into stone. Cannons load rounds for the assault. Plague ooze drips from the parapets and towers alike. Forsaken pour into the new gapping hole of the broken wall.

Nathanos really did plan this fully…

_You expected him to just jump into this?_

Yes…

A sudden jerk throws us forward, the undead commander launching the final strike upon this hollowed city. In seconds, we barrel past legions of furiously fighting Forsaken. In seconds we bounce onto the ramp. In seconds we ride past the gate and sharply turn to our left.

"Fire fast and true, boys!" Nathanos navigates rather delicately past battling alliance and undead forces, "give them a reason to fear us!"

Three cannons chime in unison from above – death delivered devastatingly. Stone barricades are torn asunder, sending Worgen wolfmen and alliance figures to their deaths. They dare try to block our route. They dare with feeble iron walls and stone constructs. However, unlike before, they now line their streets with various artillery and cannons

Fortunately for us, their aim is terrible.

Explosions rip into building sides while misdirected shells burst randomly around us. I do not know what they aiming at, but they certainly aren't hitting us.

_You couldn't possibly think they were shooting at you with those pathetic strikes_…

One, two, three alliance artillery pieces are vaporized, only flaming debris a sign of their once existence. Their shells silenced unlike those of the riflemen firing from building sides and from within deeper trenches. Bullets ping harshly off the armored sides of the craft as well from the metal sheets attached to my companion's weaponry.

"Nathanos!" Darion launches a shell at a building, igniting it, "stop avoiding them and run the pests over!"

He shouts this as Marris swiftly jerks the craft to one side then beautifully weaves between a strangely concocted barrier.

"Do you see those blockades, Knight?" His question is obviously rhetorical, "well, my fine wheels aren't meant for those spiky…." He swerves back and forth for avoidance. "…They hurt!"

Sounds of richocheting rounds intensify, and as I peruse the surroundings, I begin to notice that the three gunners overhead are unable to eject enough ammunition to route nor shatter the enemy lines anymore.

_You should probably look behind you…_

Instantly, I twist backwards, taking in the sight behind us. Barricades swipe past the sides of my vision as well do dozens of surviving foes. Forsaken troops march up the path, but are seemingly slowed by the remaining alliance that now struggle fiercely.

And with each fleeting second…they are drawn further and further out of range…

"Where are all of these rats coming from!?" Saylem barks ironically as he shoots feverishly.

Nathanos' face contorts slightly, showing signs of a desired retort. Sadly, his motives are lost to his constant jerking of the now quaking vehicle. I am capable of stabilizing myself on the nearby instruments, but a bit of nausea creeps over me. Feels a bit like being on a boat…

_You have a weak stomach, you sissy!_

Explosions light up the front of the machinery. Chunks of armor bounce from the slowly weakening vehicle. Bullets begin to stick. Artillery rounds land closer. Figures pass by as quickly as do barriers. So…many…moving…ugh…

_You need to stop looking forward! You are just gonna get sick!_

Taking my voice's advice, I throw myself from the front face of the machine and peer rearwards again. A few objects are visibly moving, but not as terribly. It is then, as I attempt to dislodge my sickly feeling that a new sense takes over. It is then, as I peer backwards that I see the last Forsaken troop fade behind a round bend.

We are alone…

"Nathanos!" Again Darion cries. This time, however, he is glancing backwards, "As much as I am enjoying this slaughter, we are far too outnumbered…"

"What is your point, Highlord? Are you afraid?" Nathanos speaks without looking – his eyes locked firmly on the road ahead.

"No, I have always just…" he ducks and fires, "considered myself more intelligent then to fight a losing battle."

"Losing?" Nathanos spins the wheel as a large, iron vehicle comes into sight, "I don't see any losers on my team, Knight. Q-E-D, we are not losing."

Tok hunkers behind his cannon as he shoots now, "Are ya mad, mon? Dey got siege engines up ahead! We cannot take dem!"

With his words moves my optics. Coming into sight is a round, hulking piece of machinery that rests on the far side of a "T" intersection that heads right. Massive iron rivets jut from the frontal portion of the machine, while hefty sheets of iron clamp securely to the yellow-tinted sides. Finally, resting on the very top, is a rather large, pivoting cannon.

Which fires…

A searing round streaks the air, chars the skies, and explodes into a fiery mess at the side of our craft. Chunks of wood rip from my right. A cup snaps and twirls from sight as the catapult arm is vaporized by the blast.

"Mon, ya gonna kill us all!"

Flames lick from the smoldering wound. Black flames roll gently, concealing Nathanos partially. Yet through the fire and flame, the undead man does not yield. He does not flinch nor even blink. He continues on…determined…

Another explosion tears a pothole in front of us, just barely short of a direct hit into my small tomb. A third shell, a second miss. Second by second we draw towards the growing vehicle. Second by second we near the beast near the intersection. Second by second, weapon fire rains upon our craft…

"Nathanos!" Saylem screeches the name as he completely hides behind his cannon.

His words are lost in the construct only yards away and closing. Sense muscles strain and unpleasant sensations dig into my flesh. Sweat beads upon my brow as my jaw hangs limply.

The enemy cannon tilts, aims…

And explodes…

Fires shoot from the suddenly igniting from the shattered cannon port. Beautiful flames streak the skies. And from above, smoke trickles from a troll's now lifeless cannon. Once again, Tok, you have saved us all. Now, if only you could save us from our insane driver…

"Hold on, boys! This is gonna be tight!" Nathanos barks loudly as he steadies the wheel.

He spins the circle to the left as a second siege engine rolls up to the wounded first. Nathanos drives at an angle as a third tank blocks the pass ahead completely. He steadies as the two monstrosities align their cannons for assault…

"Nathanos…" Tok softly speaks as desperation is lost to the unyielding sense of hopelessness.

But, to my dismay, and to my wonderment, the undead man whips his hand in a clockwise fashion – hurling the wheel completely and fully. Snapping wood and shifting iron drag unwillingly upon redirecting wheels. Whistles and crackling gunshots are dulled as all sound fades. Cannon rounds roll overhead, missing their marks.

Wheels glide sideways as friction is lost to the remarkable change in coarse. My body slams into the side while companions cling feverishly to sheltering cannons. The moment lingers for what feels like an entirety. But finally, as all foes fall out of sight, the craft lines up the narrow path.

There are only vacant buildings to our sides. Behind us are slowly chasing tanks. Ahead of us is simply a clear route that ends at a large building. The same building that is nestled between two portions of wall. A dead end? Really?

_You aren't blind…_

"Mon…now wat? Ya plan to hold dem off here?" Tok comfortably peers over his cannon.

Nathanos, oddly, chuckles.

"No, troll, as you can plainly see, I am heading straight for the Keep."

Tok gawks at him, a confused brow cocked, "Mon, dat be a random building at da end of a random road."

We barrel onwards, no speed lost. Nathanos does not seem to notice that we are gliding rather quickly towards an ending route…

"Troll, do you see what I see?" Nathanos points at the building ahead. "Of course you don't. What you see is an obstacle. What I see is a section of wall that is weaker than the rest."

As he finishes, I recall how the building is placed firmly between two sections of wall. I follow one end of the wall; it leads me off towards the horizon. I do the same with the other. Same end. It is then it hits me. They included this building in the wall…why…I don't know. But they did…

"I saw this a week ago, and I knew its purpose instantly!" He flips a tiny switch that in turn cracks a strange lock near me. "That is how we are getting in!"

He points at me, "Ok, Worm, get ready to fire…"

My mouth sunders, "Wait, what?"

"Fire…fire now, worm!"

Bemused and terrified, I throw my eyes downwards. However, before I can even scout for what I need, a deafening hiss sizzles from my side. Flashes of red, white, and orange burn from the back of the obnoxious cylinder I have been crashing into.

Suddenly from ahead, the skeletal mouth swing open, giving a perfect route to the tube next to me. It's a rocket…

It shoots from my side, showering my face with embers as it glides from the vehicle and hurls outwards. Instantly, I gawk down. Standing below a sheet of glass, yet atop a tiny, red button is none other than a small, vibrating, ball of orange flesh.

Squeals…

"Again, Worm, give them hell!"

I make to hit the button, but my tiny, shaking comrade hops from her first stance and lands properly upon the second. It takes a moment for her light weight to push the red circle, but as she lowers, the cylinder to my left ignites. She turns to me, shakes a bit, then chirps loudly.

Fine, take my thunder, raptor.

My sight is drawn forward again as the second missile glides forward. Precisely as the second leaves the ship, the first engulfs the large building in an inferno of fire. Wood drags into the air as flames and fire pull towards the skies. A second later, the second explosion drags air in momentarily before ejecting a mass section of matter into the sky.

We barrel for the flaming wreckage, no speed ever lost…

"That is what I am talking about!" Nathanos bellows as we enter the raging fire.

Intense heat pours over the side of the craft. Smoke fills the cavity where I rest. Screaming wood buckles unseen. Darkness and red coated smoke fills my optics. All the sounds and sights of chaos enter my mind, and just as quickly, they leave.

Just as light returns, the black smoke fading behind us, we speed across a slightly inclined courtyard.

Rows of gorgeous hedges gather upon the outskirts of the giant edifice. Shrubs mingle around the edges of the hedges while finely cut grass protrudes as dark green spines near their bases. All this said flora surrounds a large, dark gray stone courtyard where an elegant fountain rains beauty for all spectators.

A iron-spiked fence runs the length of the area, where a pair of partially opened gates rest. We, however, are nowhere near that said entrance. So Nathanos plows headlong into the fine landscaping – shredding the beauty in a matter of seconds.

Grass is crushed. Shrubs are uprooted. Hedges are trimmed via force and acceleration. All of if is trampled as we ram through each section, sunder the gate and drive towards the fountain.

Such a beautiful part of town. Not a single soul in sight. Not a citizen, denizen, peasant, or any other variation you find suiting. Not a person in view. Not even a soldier.

All there is our catapult…and the Keep before us. The crazy idiot actually did it…

"Ok, gentlemen, once we stop, assault the main gates and lets end this war!"

"Nathanos, I don't think its quite that simple!" Darion counters as we oddly navigate around the fountain and rather slowly drive up the building's entrance.

"Kodo bacon!" Marris blurts a random food item as he throws the vehicle in park and leaps from his seat. "I know how these fools work, and they will surround once I arrive. Its basic war principles."

The three hesitate as Nathanos leisurely strolls towards the edifice. I, however, sweep the surrounding area out of complete dismay. The courtyard is vast and clean; only this fountain and our poor parking cluttering the terrain.

Suddenly, a pair of slick shoes slaps the stone. Seconds later it occurs twice more. I throw my vision and watch as the three companions walk awkwardly towards the front gates of our destination.

I can't believe we actually made it here…

_You can't believe why you are still sitting here!_

Oh, right. Swiftly, I climb forward, foolishly crawl past the gapping maws, and skillfully fall flat on my stomach. Without hesitating, I scamper back to my feet, dust my chest, and pray no one saw that.

_You know I did._

I sigh, and take off after the other two. However, before I make it far, a tiny chirp lures me backwards. On the ground, tiny arms extended towards, is the little fighter. She wriggles and awaits her lift. I cannot keep her waiting.

Scooping her up, I pivot on my soles, place her on my pack, and face forward again. It is then, as I come up behind them, Nathanos begins…to shout…

"Greymane!" He lurches backwards, making sure he is a bulky as he can make himself -- wouldn't want to miss him. "Come outside, I wish to take your city from you."

Darion sighs, "Really, Marris? That was your grand finale?"

"Shush, I got this all planned out."

"Mon, ya be stand'n in front of da enemy fortress, four strong. Ya gonna kill dem all?"

"Of course, Troll. Of course."

Suddenly, a dark figure appears in one of the stain glass windows. It stands there for a moment before vanishing. My muscles tense as sounds of footsteps radiate from behind the massive set of wood doors. These said blockers are finely crafted, molded from fine wood of the jungles to the south. Above it is a huge, stain-glass window that depicts a rather attractive woman.

As I gawk, the doors cringe. The light behind said barricades darkens before bursting open, letting forth a dozen of well-armed, armored soldiers. They pour from inside, form a weak semi-circle around us, leaving the main entrance open. I was actually expecting far more than just this…

Finally, emerging from the grand gates is a large, bulky man. Two gentlemen follow behind him. One appears to be a soldier of sorts while the other has the presence of servant. The center figure, however, commands the respect of royalty.

Heavy, finely-crafted leather drapes the vast of the figure. Folds of thick cloth surround his neck and run across his shoulders like a drape. Thick arms and legs hold properly and diligently. Upon his head is large hat that cocks to the side, as well as a large, orange beard.

It is the man of my vision. It is the very statue animated. It is…

"Greymane!" Nathanos gleefully cries, "what took you so long?"

The giant man walks down a short set of steps before marching towards the undead commander. He halts merely yards away as if waiting for something…

"Nathanos Marris, it has been far too long." It is not Greymane who speaks, but another from inside.

"That voice…what in the world are you doing here?!" Nathanos jerks, attempting to peruse beyond the lurking figure before him.

Just barely can I see a figure behind him. From here, I can see another man suited in leather. This one, however, bears no facial hair; instead, he fashions an unclean, poorly trimmed pony tail. Swiftly, the man marches to the side of Greymane. To his side is a small, familiar dwarf.

"Commander Marris, on behave of the Alliance, I welcome you to Gilneas. "The new individual bellows confidently. Oddly, I think I know him. "It is also on behave of my people, that I wish to tell you that we will not be hanging you from the ramparts this day."

Nathanos spits at the ground and grunts, "Varian, please, you know I'd gut you before you had the chance."

A smirk forms of the man known as Varian's face. Wait…I know that name…

"Undead, be thankful that your ally here commands unequivocal respect, otherwise it would delight me to see you dead."

Nathanos cackles, "See, King Wrynn, I always bring insurance with my assaults."

The King, the very king of Stormwind smiles, tilts his head down and nods. After a second he peers upwards.

"Oh, there is a small fee for your safety." He extends his arm, palm facing to the sky, "give it to me."

Nathanos glances to the left then to the right. He is hunting for something, but all he will find is futility for his efforts. I am not sure what the King wants, but from Nathanos' reaction, I definitely know the commander does.

A depressed, defeated expression clutches the undead man's face as he reluctantly reaches to his neck, unfastens some string, and lets fall his dark-brown cape. Carefully he takes it in his hand, gives it one long look, before presenting it to the King.

In a flash, the man scoops up the cloth, throws it to his back, and ties it around his neck.

"Mon, ya done stole him cape?" Tok whispers angrily to Marris.

"Stole is such a harsh word, Troll. I like to think of it as removing from his said person while he was sleeping."

Loudly, Wrynn interrupts the two, "He stole it. But I do digress. Why have more pressing matters to attend. Such as why aren't you dead? Or better yet, why are you even here?"

Nathanos raises a finger, opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Oddly, he shuts his mouth briefly while his eyes roll upwards in their sockets. A fleeting moment passes and he recoils back to normality.

"Actually, I do not know why we are…" his navigate to the Dwarf, to Brann, "Oh, yes, that is right. For him."

Nathanos points at Brann. Wrynn instantly glances at the character before speaking.

"Just as the dwarf said…" he directs his eyes back to Nathanos, "However, he arrived a great deal of time before you. Why didn't you just deliver him and leave?"

Nathanos shrugs, "Because…I wanted to see your shining face again."

Greymane grunts and glares at Marris, "This insect defiles my city with his very presence! He mocks us with his sarcasm! He is a nuisance! Kill this ant before he lays a trail for his sickening allies!"

Wrynn peers at him, "No need for that, King, we both know Nathanos' forces are held at bay back at the second wall. They will not be getting in any time soon."

"He should be slaughtered where he stands! His death would stir our…"

Wrynn speaks sternly and angrily.

"We made a deal, remember, Greymane. We both owe Brann more favors than I dare try to calculate," he finally looks back to us, "and if he wanted them here, then so be it. As much as it sickens me."

Wrynn throws his arm forward as if coercing the dwarf. "Ok, Brann, please do explain before my unyielding urge to maim this fool overwhelms me."

Brann shuffles silently from the King's side, comes to Nathanos, and promptly spins. Without saying a word, the dwarf reaches into his pocket, pulls a tiny purple package from his shirt, and begins to speak.

"Ok, ok. Where to start." Brann slaps his chest.

Wrynn folds his arms and taps his foot, "Dwarf? We allowed them to reach our Keep, you better not make us wait any longer. You are trying even my patience..."

Brann blinks twice before finally reacting.

"Yes, right...Lads, recently I deciphered and discovered the mysteries behind the artifact in Wintergrasp." He begins to unfold the paper, "and what I found…will shatter our very definitions of history."

A tiny portion of gold is revealed.

"Beneath the vast girth of light and energy, was a tiny speck of gold. But, oh lads, this isn't just any mere speck. No no, what this is…shaped this very planet…

Dramatically he throws the final fabric from half of the shard, holds it with both hands, and raises it.

"A shard of the Demon Soul itself!"

King Wrynn narrows his vision, distrust radiating from his being. Greymane, however, flinches forcefully while a ruby shade fills the void of his face. From his demeanor and posture, I can tell he does not like what he sees…

"How dare you, dwarf!" Greymane takes a step forward, the muscles on his face tensing from rage, "You have brought the very source of our agony to our gates!"

Greymane's officer grabs hold of him, but only tampers his fury.

"Gah! Dwarves! I knew you could not be trusted!" His body slowly shifts forward, his hate evident, "First you bring our enemy to our gates…then you bring show us you have been carrying darkness' taint? I will kill you!"

Greymane lurches forward, but before he can reach the dwarf, a long, orange-tinted blade blocks his path. But it is not from our hands that the weapon vibrates. It is Wrynn's…

Greymane's face contorts from rage to enthralled bewilderment. His facial muscles still tense, but his curious eyes get the best of him. Wrynn, however, lowers his eyebrows and peruses Brann. For a long moment, he gives the Dwarf a look before glancing to Greymane.

Finally, he peers back forward and speaks.

"Well, from my friend's reaction here, there must be some truth behind your words, Brann." He cocks an eyebrow, "So…why was it so important that it brought you here?"

Brann jiggles from excitement.

"Lad, it gave me a vision. It gave us, "he glances to me, "a vision of Greymane here. I want to know why. I need to know…"

"I will tell you nothing, Dwarf!" Greymane's rage returns, "That object should have remained buried!"

He pushes into Wrynn's blade.

"You have doomed us all, Dwarf!"

Instantly, he jerks past the blade. His mighty arms aim for Brann, but the swift King and hasty Nathanos step in. Unfortunately, the person they dare to halt carries strength unmatched by any other.

Still accelerating, Darion shifts forward, grabbing one of the King's tree-trunk arms. Brann takes a few steps backwards as Tok intervenes on his behave. I watch the dwarf stumble a bit as he moves. One of his fingers slips, tapping the gold gently…

Instantly, the muscles in my chest lock. Air fails to pass whatever occurred. My hands raise to my torso, gripping the straining ribs. It is as if my own tendons are going to snap my very ribcage.

A bright flash of green sends me stumbling backwards. I blink a few times, trying to remove the sudden emerald tint that overwhelms my vision. I don't know what is happening. I can see everyone, but…but it is skewed…my vision is skewed…

I try to breath again, but nothing. I feel my body begin to panic. Around me are fighting figures, behind them are massive green trees. It is as if the dreamworld and my own reality have been smashed to...together…

After what feels like an eternity, my chest relaxes, and I gasp violently. I see Tok throw his body in my direction. Lathered upon his face is what can only be described as fear and disbelief.

And as he gawks…they return….

_The stone is part of you now!_

_We can see you now…_

_You cannot escape!!_

_This planet shall be consumed!!_

_We will be released!_

Tok marches towards me. As he does, the final voice strikes…

_It is too late, human. Look to the skies…the Destroyer has come…_

I do not know what is happening. So many voices. They all scream to me, yet I cannot make out their purpose. I cannot make out their design. It feels as if they are all lying to me, yet one…one calls to me…

My eyes navigate to the last voice's command. Overhead, directly above the keep, is a swirling pit of darkness. Beneath it churns a thick, orange glow. Streaks of red and orange red run the lengths of the orange scar. It is the same hue that I saw from earlier. It is the same rumbling that I heard…

And it grows brighter with each passing second…

"Mon!" I feel Tok grab me, "Look me in da eyes, mon!"

Slowly, I lower my head. The troll's eyes lock with mine as I stand here baffled. I do not know what is happening.

"No…" Tok tilts his head upward then back to me, "me vision was right, mon…"

Anxiety and terror consumes his face.

"Da War has begun…"

As his words slip from his mouth, all forms of fear grip my body. All my muscles lock. Flesh grows numb while veins pressurize.

"Tok…I don't understand…" I attempt to decipher the meaning behind his words, but the commotion is distracting me…

Tok grips me, and pulls me close.

"Mon, I haven't been tell'n ya da whole truth…" he pauses, "Bruddah, dere be more den I be tell'n ya…"

Before he can finish his sentence, a massive, rolling thunder shatters the void. All grows silent. All movement ceases except for the cocking heads and gazing figures. Overhead, the orange mass churns…

"Ha…ha…ha…"

A rumbling laugh traverses the entire sky, its boom striking envy into thunder itself. The glowing hue intensifies.

"Pathetic mortals, your quarreling means little!"

A voice bellows like a thousand erupting volcanoes.

"Silence your foolishness! Cease your trifling conflicts!" It burns brighter than ever, "Know now…that destruction itself has come to your lands!"

Clouds spiral downwards as the orange epicenter becomes a blister upon the skies. A tornado builds from the mass, twisting and bending as the hue swiftly navigates towards the ground.

Thunder rattles. Lightning sparks as red and yellow flares. Eyes follow the lowering Tornado. Bodies shift as it passes past the tallest spire. Figure flinch as it descends to the courtyard…

Finally it slams into the earth, sending spiraling walls of violent wind as it collides. Soldiers stumble backwards as the black wall churns, flashes and rumbles. The entire murky mesh consumes the vast of this courtyard, yet brings a growing taint across the entire city.

You cannot see beyond the dark layering. Only the flashes bring any light to the tenebrous mystery.

It is a stationary tornado, yet its force can be felt. Suddenly, a great deal up the looming construct, burn two bright orange embers. They do not spark nor flash as does the rest of the cover. They do not separate nor shift. They stand alone…eyes amongst the dark clouds…

"Well, well, quite the gathering." The voice built of raging infernos bellows forth, "King Wrynn, my old friend Greymane, and…"

Red lightning bursts the lengths of the dark mass, revealing a iniquitous outline…

"Tok. What a pleasant surprise, to say the least!"

From beneath the darkness you can see a shifting source of murky light that burns below the embers; only appearing as does the voice.

"Oh, and look, you brought something of mine; a dwarfen snack and the Demon Soul. How delightful!"

Suddenly, I feel an intense burn fill my body. It is as if the stars themselves have nestled feet from me, delivering thermal agony to my person. My very eyes strain against unyielding surge.

It is then, as the heat persists, that something stirs beneath the darkness…

"It would seem that I was incorrect…" The shadows extend outwards, bending to their limits. "You have delivered to me…two items of my ownership."

Finally, a solid mass bursts from the churning darkness. The massive, bulky shape draws the tenebrous mass with it, but is no longer shrouded. Thick, irony scales run the lengths of a long, bony neck.

These same said sheets overlap upon each other, yet cannot hold back the heat that radiates from between them. It is as if they are vents, spewing steam into the air to suffocate life itself.

The scales run to a set of backwards curling horns. Brackish material clings in clumped designs from each spike, as if the spines have melted before. Pitch-black jaws run from the bottoms of the protruding horns.

Each mandible appears dense, dressed in layers of heated ash. Scales are evident upon the jaws, yet are lost to the bony appearance. Rows of jutting fangs are coated in grime; the intense heat charring their surfaces with whatever was unfortunate enough to find themselves pitted against the blades.

A forward sloping brow shines dimly; obsidian stone molded as armor above the yellow embers of earlier. The whites of the eyes are what glow, trapping within their seas a single, tenebrous source that destroys all light. Pupils built from mounds of charcoal shift within the bony sockets. They dance, menacingly, as they scan my person…

A pair of crusty nostrils flares before promptly secreting pillars of ash and black smoke. Its lower jaw descends, revealing behind it a burning source of bright light. Its throat shines as if one is staring down into an active volcano. A tongue shifts like magma within the heart of a mountain...

"My master has been looking for you."

Heat washes over me with each word that is ejected from his mouth. I should be terrified. I should be alarmed. But this creature does not allow for that. I am beyond the point of fear.

He draws closer, "Behold…!"

The beast draws its head backwards, allowing folds of dense skin to shake upon the bottom of his neck. The tornado dissipates; rising like smoke from an extinguishing fire. Revealed is a massive body of a towering dragon.

Iron hide slabs coat the vast of the beast, unnatural armor charred and layered upon the beast's body. Four legs run to the ground, tainted armor draping each limb. Glowing hues pulsate beneath each sheet of metal. Rivulets of molten fury run the lengths of the creature's breast; just visible beneath a massive plate of blackened armor.

Wings extend outwards, ash drifting from the bony flaps like fiery dandruff. The folds of skin run the lengths between each bone upon the wings. They glow at the tips of bone and darken at the base of the bone. Molten lava drips from the wings themselves.

These constructs of flight give an indescribable girth to the beast. These constructs add to the already horrific monstrosity before us. These constructs…give justice to that which is already unjustly superior…

"Before you stands…the Destroyer!"

His voice rolls across the skies; bringing fright to thunder itself. His voice booms. His voice followed by a pulsating laughter – a thousand cannons firing in unison. His voice…gives him the name he so rightfully deserves…

It is…Deathwing…


	18. Chapter 16: Interview with a Dragon

_"With your energy, my brothers and sisters, I shall bring to this land a force unlike anything before! With YOUR energy, my brothers and sisters, this land shall be reshaped beyond recognition."_

_Neltharion the Earth-Warder upon the creation of the Dragon-Soul._

_

* * *

_

Metallic scales shuffle across each other as the beast shifts positions. Dull screeches radiate from his armor – the cries of damnation itself. Droplets of molten magma drizzle like molasses from carvings on his breast and underbelly.

Saliva manifested as fire and brimstone flows from his ashen, bone lips as he speaks.

"Little one, you seem far from home…" A glowing tongue, its shine concocted from fiery destruction, flickers visibly amidst a churning maw, "You visit here…for grand…old…me?"

Piercing, black eyes secrete waves of intense heat. Thermal energy pulsates and surrounds me, oscillating the air into frenzy. I can almost feel the heat permeating my flesh, the laws of energy flow apparent.

Sweat builds upon my brow as the beast shakes again, armor shifting and screeching as prior.

"Care to reply? Or do you wish for me to coerce words from your fatigued lips?"

I raise my arm, wipe the building fluid, and sigh.

"Sorry, I was just enjoying the steam bath you were giving me. Invigorating."

Before my arm can lower past my chest, a row of beads gather upon my drying flesh -- my efforts for naught. His mere glance is comparable to a dozen stars shining their fury in one isolated location. It is unbearable. I must look away. And thus, my eyes divert down to my arms.

Skin color fades, while hairs flee to the flesh. Air seeps in and out of my lungs harshly, as if sand is being pumped down my throat and absorbed through my crackling organs.

As I gawk, I can see him shift again. This time, however, his maw sunders, and the rolling cackle of rumbling earthquakes flows from his mouth.

He tilts his head slightly forward, his pupils never leaving my presence.

"Death itself greets you…and you retort with grand sarcasm." A massive, bony claw lifts from the shattered courtyard. "Mortals do amaze me. Infinite courage, yet limited span to exert it."

The black paw drifts a few yards off the ground. Scales on this portion of the body are much larger and come to thick, spiky ends. A flat sheet of armor ends at a line of spines that form the beast's knuckles. This armor is charred black like the rest.

Gigantic, bladed claws draw inward, coming together as if the beast is pinching the air. Each razor must be at least half my height in length. The tips glow a faint orange while the portion attached to the bone is as black as night. Blades fitting for such a monster.

Suddenly, the monster rolls his paw, his palm facing the darkened skies. Four of the five sharpened bones curl inwards, while one, lone digit points towards the heavens. This said claw floats for a brief moment before rolling into a fist with rest; however, before it can completely halt, it oscillates back outward. The entire routine of said finger repeats once more…

He is beckoning me…

"Come here, little one. Let me see why my master so yearns for you."

His claw curls towards the palm again. As back it rolls outwards, I can feel his determination grow in the form of radiating heat. I mustn't go to him. I need to stay here. I need to stand my ground…

_You show him who's boss!_

Again, I wipe my brow before replying.

"If you master desires me so…" I take a deep breath of burning air, "then you can come to me."

_You are…woah_…

From my side, I can hear the gasps and whispers of the others.

"Huge rocks, lad…huge…"

"Mon!" Tok draws close, "ya be crazy, mon!"

"Hope, I pray you know what you just did…" Darion whispers.

"That's my worm! Make him work for his dinner!" And, of course, Nathanos throws his two cents in.

My attention is redirected as the ground shakes violently. Wandering eyes lock upon a forward-placed paw. Before I can react, the earth around me quivers erratically. I feel an imbalance strike my form, but I am able to keep myself stable.

However, no more than two yards from me, is a massive…lumbering…claw. From the distance, I can see each crack, each divot etched into the bone. From here, I can absorb each rivulet of fire, and taste each rolling cloud of agonized air. From here…

Intense heat washes over me. Faucets shatter across my face – free flow of fluid activated. Each bead, however, evaporates upon reaching the surface. Once again, I find myself peering upon the flesh on my arm. Hairs sizzle and crack, igniting painfully. Skin cracks, allowing for blood to flow, but the fluid dare not venture to the sun-bathed surface…

He is…close…

"Mortal, look at me." Wafts of burning air sting all areas of my flesh.

I take a deep breath, consuming only a meek portion of what passes through.

"Mortal!" His voice bellows forth like a bursting fissure of fire.

Reluctantly, I find my eyes rolling within their sockets. They dry as they move, but I must not give in yet. I blink wildly, praying my body can keep the orbs moist, but the heat...the heat is extreme. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I find what I must.

At this distance, his mouth envelops the length of my vision. Rows of massive fangs interlock in an unorganized fashion. Brackish material clings to each jutting razor, while scales seem to recede at the gum-line – the monster's own heat too intense for the behemoth.

Thick, thermal-polished scales fold upon his nostrils and run like fine obsidian across his face. Some crack and protrude upward, spines if you will. Others roll back to the bony eye sockets. From this distance, the yellows of his eyes are like the stars themselves – painful to peer into.

But the cores of black are enough to keep one focused. If not out of necessity…then out of pure fear…

My heart races and my muscles tighten. Anxiety creeps across my flesh, while fear strangles my mind. Just be calm, Hope. Lest we wish to provoke the beast…

His pupils shift in their place. They peruse my being, searching and hunting. They scan for answers, and will most definitely find what they so desire.

"Remarkable." His maw breaks, spewing forth raging, fiery fury from the volcanic epicenter. "From your mere flesh…I can sense it…"

I am forced to look away as the beast speaks. However, once finished, I lock back upon his fiery orbs.

"What are you talking about?" Each word more difficult then the last to release.

There is a mild hesitation exerted by the monster.

"Mortal…" his words are gently coated in strange confusion, "do you know why I am here?"

I take another deep, painful breath.

"Besides to torture me…no…"

"You…don't…have…a…clue." To my delight, I can feel the heat dim, and his presence fade just a bit. He has moved away. "He was right!"

Comfortably, I glance upwards. Lurched backwards, he holds himself in his confident stance once again. For a moment he simply gazes at me before releasing his booming laugh.

"They haven't told you?" His eyes navigate to my left, "Troll, you hide from him his destiny?"

More laughter.

"Unbelievable! I could consume him at his very moment, and he would never know…" The beast shakes, the skin on his neck swaying. "The Vessel of the Gods' ascension, and he hasn't the slightest idea!"

Tok shifts into sight, rage apparent.

"Why don't ya den, mon?" Tok yells from my side, "Why don't ya come down here and cobble da little one up? Oh mighty Destroyer, mon."

Woah, calm down there, Tok. Let's not make him angry…er…

Instantly, the beast seals his maw, while his rock-like eyes focus on the troll. The towering behemoth glares intently, as if attempting to vaporize Tok with his very eyes. He continues his stare until finally he snorts a large pocket of black smoke from his nostrils.

The giant grunts and begins to stir. His body rustles, while the massive folds of leathery flesh extend from his sides. In a matter of seconds, the wings are at full length – the beast at its truest form again. It is then he speaks.

"What would be the fun in that, troll? No, I have greater plans for him…and the rest of you…the master can wait."

Oddly, the massive wings shift downwards, sending gentle ripples across the air. A moment later, they draw skywards. Again, they lower. Then they rise. Lower. Rise. With each passing second, the speed intensifies, and with it, so does the churning air.

I brace myself against the now raging winds of the monster's creation. They are cool to the touch, despite their forceful fury. They are almost welcomed as they bring me desired relief. Sadly, they begin to fade as the monster lifts from the ground.

His legs curl towards his body, while his spiny tail bends inwards a bit. Winds thrash the keep as he ascends over the shortest spire. I am not exactly sure why he suddenly desire to take flight, but…well…I guess no one is going to tell him otherwise…

Again, the booming echo of his voice shatters the planes of reality..

"I recommend, troll, that you bestow upon him that which he so rightfully deserves!" His voice bursts louder than before, "Bring an end to his intellectual drought…before the floods of my fury drown you all…"

He hovers monetarily, allowing for a brief second to let his words soak in. His wings then beat fiercely once again.

At that, he quickly rises. In a matter of seconds he shoots past the tallest tower of the keep, lifts towards the murky darkness, and vanishes into the abyss. I am not exactly sure what just happened…

The glow returns to the blackened concoction of air. It remains stationary, the beast still present. Silence sweeps the land, an eerie sense of terror pulsating from its devastatingly calm presence.

And as all grows still…the booming roar of the monster returns…

"With that, let it rain, heroes of Azeroth! Let it rain…"

Its echoing voice equates that of rolling thunder. The booming sound travels the vast of space, and calls to us as much as it dare can. Until finally all that remains is silence. Painful, agonizing…silence…

Thankfully, the dwarf shatters it with his squawking voice.

"Woah…" Brann shifts his paw under his hat, "That, my good men, was a rather intense moment of my life."

Saylem grunts, "That is it? He leaves…with only the mere threat of a downpour? Oh, how scary, the mighty Destroyer is going to drown us."

"Fool, you truly underestimate the beast." Darion shuffles forward, his head tilted fully towards the clouds. "He is plotting. Oh, don't you worry. He is plotting…"

Darion grows eerily silent. Brann, however, seems rather exhilarated by the moment.

"Maybe Hope here scared him with his crazy ways!" Brann steps up besides me. "This lad here seems to bring the spooks…to the spooks!"

For some strange reason, I cannot help but ignore the little ranting man. Instead, I lock firmly with horizon, yet still take in all the ones around me.

From the corner of my eyes, I can see King Wrynn march up to our small pack, while behind him, I can see Greymane and his two companions dart around the side of the Keep and vanish from sight. Where in the world are they going?

"What do ye say, lad? Are you the scarer of baddies or what?" Brann firmly slaps my back and laughs. He is still pestering me.

He and he alone chuckles, yet all other sounds are lost in his hysterical ways.

As he cackles, I throw my eyes upwards momentarily. The orange hue stills glows as profusely as prior. Mild sparks and streaks of colored lightning dance amongst the bright portion of the darkness. Something is amidst here…

"Tok." I feel my lips part.

"Ya, mon?"

Momentary hesitation on my part.

"Something is coming…isn't it?"

A brief pause.

"Ya, mon."

My eyes focus firmly as his words sink in. I can feel my head tilt downwards, and I peruse my surroundings. Brann and Saylem crack jokes from my side. Darion stares into space with a bit of bewilderment lathered upon his face. Nathanos talks -- ok, argues-- with Wrynn, while dozens of soldiers relay recent events to each with complete excitement.

Finally, there is Tok and myself. The troll gawks towards the heavens as do I. The both of us wander the skies, letting our optics do the speaking from our motionless lips. There is plenty between us unshared, but at this very moment…we both know the same information.

This is far from over.

And as if on cue a bright flash ripples beneath the blackened clouds. The original hue fades behind the tiny burst of light, and the entire taint is lost to the sudden appearance of an unnerving sight.

Rupturing from the murky abyss is a faint glow of something solid in nature. It spirals from the wall of shadows, a black trail following its heavy, dark-orange glow. Flares burst from the edges of the core – flakes breaking from the raging central ember.

At an arc it glides across the sky. At an arc it rolls swiftly towards the city. At an arc, it sprinkles the skies with its gentle might. And…at an arc…it spirals, tilts, and slams forcefully into a small structure near the coast of the city.

Fires burst from a dwelling's impaled roof. From this distance you can just barely glimpse the smoke pillars rising from the smoldering, flammable shingles. In seconds, the abode is engulfed; a mere speck in the distances, yet an object of significance.

The first…

"Ye all saw that, right? Ole'Brann ain't seeing things again, is he?" Brann spins towards the distant, crackling impact zone.

Before any of us can dare respond, the snapping of reins, the nay of a horse, and the screech of rolling wheels fills the air. My vision darts downwards just in time to watch a large, black stagecoach shoot from the side of the Keep. It forcefully jerks left, tipping to its right as it does.

Windows and tattered drapes rattle as the aged vehicle directs down a path that rolls downwards and out of sight. From this position, the road appears to lead off to the ocean.

_You digress, you little hamster!_

What? Oh, yes. More importantly, revealed from the side ports, are two figures – resembling closely those of Greymane's servants. A top the carriage, holding the leathery whips within his grasps is a rather bulky figure.

Red strands float from the back of the man's scalp, while a mighty hand latches down a huge hat. Long, elegant sheets of cloth roll with the wind that flows around his hulking form. A well trimmed beard sticks to the breeze as well. And as the vehicle turns upon just two wheels, the man turns to us and proclaims,

"Run, you fools! RUN!"

In a blur, the carriage rocks, turns, and slams heavily back upon all four wheels. It barrels onward, startling schools of dirt and dust into a darting frenzy around its wheels. The wooden frame slowly lowers from sight as it descends the route's incline.

It slowly takes from us the three most eager to depart. It slowly draws the only true intelligent fellows from our presence. It slowly fades…leaving behind a subtle, crackling thunder, and a strange image in the top of my vision.

Exactly as the stagecoach vanishes, the cityscape and the road become a mere backdrop to that which wafts inches from my face. My curious eyes lock firmly upon the tiny particle, following each and every shake of the flake perfectly. This said miniscule creation floats gently downwards past the top of my dead and oscillates lower than my nose.

Spiraling and swooshing, it makes for the ground, yet seems to hover for an earlier location to land. Unwilling to fail it, I lift one hand towards the skies, tilt my palms to the darkened heavens, and watch the tiny snowflake drift to the tip of my index figure. There, I let my optics peruse it. There, I discover that its innocence is naught…

A gray tinged core is outlined by dark black edges. It is puffy in appearance, yet its texture is sickening. Instantly, I lift my other hand, outstretch a finger and touch the odd flake. It smears easily, leaving behind a nasty gray smudge.

It is ash…

As I stare at the strange anomaly, the heavens give to me my revelation. My fingertips glisten as bright flashes burst from overhead. Orange tainted flashes erupt in rapid succession from the clouds. Each pulse is visible upon my hand and illuminated in the smashed ash mark.

I do not need look to see what is happening, yet I must. Slowly, I tilt my head backwards. With each passing second and shifting movement, I catch sight of hundreds of baby specks drifting from above – a blizzard of ashen material.

Slowly, and patiently, I cock my head to a near ninety degree angle and peer into the orange and black abyss. Flashes occur still, yet do so less frequently. Clouds roll and thunder echoes from within the void. And, before my very eyes, the heavens erupt.

Dozens of illuminated spheres burst from the clouds, spewing black debris from their spinning masses. Like projectiles, the molten orbs shoot rapidly across the ashy skies. Each one follows a direct trajectory for the planet while tails, manifested from the smoldering heart, outline their laid path of destruction.

Of them all, it is one lone chunk that distracts me. Of them all, it is one lone meteor that keeps my focus. Of all of them…this one glides the most directly towards our location.

It takes but a second for the rock to careen upon the air, crackle the very skies it touches, and collide into the tallest tower of the looming keep. Flames wrap their enraged fingers around the neck of the edifice, while pure energy snaps the stone with ease.

Pockets of dust and crushed wall-work shoot from the cracking spire's center. Black smoke billows into the skies. Coiling, spiraling, and bending streams of heated air rise upwards, violently rippling the many particles of cinders.

It is with each of these specks that I can feel the growing sense of fear begin to crawl into my veins. It is with each of these dots that the aura of anxiety slithers upon my thoughts. It is with each of these…that I begin to understand the truth…

Deathwing the Destroyer has come…and he has brought the rain.


	19. Chapter 17: Escape from Gilneas

_"Anticipation of the unknown can be as destructive as it can be marvelous."_

_First soldier to enter the once-sealed gates found within the Blasted Lands._

* * *

Screams echo futilely upon chaotic air. Roaring embers screech across sundered skies. Bellowing explosions ripple fiery destruction upon dwelling rooftops. Silent optics navigate towards the heavens, observing the full fury as hopelessly as I can…

"MON!"

A fierce force snaps at the front of my coat.

"Get mov'n, mon! No time for watch'n!"

Unwillingly, I find myself being dragged forward. My eyes yearn for the decimation from above, but as I begin to lose balance, I am compelled to glance downwards. On the ground rests dozens of fleeing individuals, each one's motivation directed towards the path of Greymane's flight.

Warriors clad in alliance colors scurry fearfully across the hazed courtyard. Saylem and Brann dart hurriedly towards the downward sloping path, while Darion waits impatiently for the troll and the dazed individual that oddly resembles me. Light is magnified upon his armor, and forces my attention elsewhere.

Sparkles of bursting orange light reflect from the darkened hobble stone. Crashing embers light the building tops -- raining gentle waves of illumination for all. Ash flutters from above, absorbing and blocking all glows with through sheer numbers. All of these colors, lights, and resistances bring a strange balance to the scene…

"Mon, focus!" Tok shakes me violently, "I need ya to keep moving!"

Filled with a bit of dismay, I cock my head towards the aggravated troll. My legs feel feeble while my torso grows numb. I am not exactly sure what is wrong with me, but…it just seems so difficult to move…

"Hope!" Darion waves his mighty, armored fist at me, "don't make me carry you!"

My eyes lower to him. His stance is commanding and intimidating, yet he does nothing to encourage to me. I should be running, I should be sprinting, but…whatever Deathwing did while he was standing near me…

_You know he scarred you silly._

And as I stand here, explosions tearing gaping holes into the ground, fires engulfing rooftops, and utter chaos reining supreme, the sudden urge to run fills my body.

_PHWACK_

And it comes in the form of a painful headslap.

"Worm, gather your tiny senses and get running." I turn to him, "Lest you wish to face my wrath. You don't want that now, do you, Worm?"

His hollowed eyes strike at my soul. His discolored pupils siege my sanity. His pure strength feeds me. Finally, I can feel my legs twitch and my arms quake. Feeling has returned, and as it gains to full, I reply to the undead man.

"Nathanos…your bony fingers still scare me more than a giant dragon…"

_PHWACK_

"Rightfully so!" He recoils his arm, "Now mush, Worm! Mush!"

In a flash, he takes to his feet. And, without any hesitation or fear, I catapult my legs forward and hurry after him. Tok chuckles gleefully while Darion grunts approvingly. Good old Nathanos, still knows me better than anyone else.

_You lie! You know that I know that you know I know you better!_

I intelligently ignore that crazed mental comment, and focus on my dash. It takes but a few seconds to scamper across the vast of the courtyard. Pockets of ash cling to my feet as I come to the steep incline. It is there, at the last inch of flat terrain, do I throw my sight upwards and outwards.

In the distance is the grand sea, its waves hidden beneath walls of black. Small islands dot the horizon and trail back to the land of which we stand. Coming to the coast, I discover an array of jutting, wooden platforms that house a multitude of sea vessels. I also find that our road swerves and bends directly towards it.

Looks like we are headed to the port…

Suddenly, a flash from overhead breaks my thought; however, before I can dare react, an intense glow fills the left side of my vision. Moments later, a burst of heat and energy washes over me.

Throwing my vision towards the source, I quickly notice a nearby pillar of fire and smoke. A building upon this very path was struck by a molten boulder. Flames lick ferociously at the skies while blackened flares rain slowly towards the road. The fires slow as the rock base of the building negates the fury. Alas, it is still wholly consumed.

And it shall not be the last…

As I take to my feet, absorbing the incline with all my strength, another projectile whips past and careens into an edifice just off the road. Once again, fires of chaos churn wildly, devouring the building – only tampered by the rocky walls.

A third and fourth rock barrel for the city and vanish in a cloud of smoke and ash. Billowing to the heavens are plumes of ashen debris, the impact zones marked plainly. But it is not these that are truly disturbing…it is the fifth, spiraling in from the corner of my sight, that draws the fear.

A semi-sphere concocted of fire explodes a short distance ahead. The rock collides into the gutter of the road, sending a shockwave down the street and up the walls of the nearest building. Soldiers unfortunate enough to be caught in the burst are sent flying – slamming into nearby buildings.

Rocks bounce and ricochet off shields and stone walls while flames flood the air. Tendrils of molten fiery stretch to the sky, feeding our sights as well as the ash already present.

We dart headlong down the path, ignoring the weak inferno to our sides. The majority of our pack sprints past the fiery mess, each one impartial to its existence. Oddly, as I pass it, I cannot help but feel a bit perplexed.

The whipping spines built of fire seem to dance playfully, while the base stretches and collapses as if breathing. Each fiber, each strand spins upon a central, dark epicenter. From within, the core seems to pulsate…seems to…beckon me…

Slowing, I cannot help but gauge the churning mixture. Slowing, I cannot help but gawk intently. Stopping, I cannot help…but stare…enamored. This swirling concoction of raging fires calls to me….

That cannot be. There is no possible way…

It is then, appearing in the center of the flames, are a set of bright, yellow embers – blaring eyes. They facet upon my being, scorching my very core. They lock…assaulting my soul…

And as they glare, a booming voice shatters the skies…

"RISE, MINIONS OF THE FIRELORD!" Explosive syllables pound like aerial earthquakes, "let these foolish mortals know…chaos has come!"

His voice recedes like a tidal wave from a devastated shore, leaving behind like destruction and agony in its wake. As I gaze into the flames, the words of the beast fading into nothingness, movement stirs.

A moment passes, and the slight action of flames becomes a raging frenzy. Tendrils spiral, bend, and coil while a profusely glowing bulge shifts from the core. Bursting forth is an elongated, thick trunk-like cylinder. It grows outward, the front portion of it sundering into five, thin spines.

A claw…

Fiercely it slams into the hobble stone, shattering the weak rocks with ease. Emerging after is another said limb, followed by a large pustule of raw energy. In seconds, the fire churns outwards, a heavy torso and massive arms visible. In seconds, a pair of fiery legs piece into our realm. In seconds…the beast is complete…

It jerks into position, shakes soot and molten debris, and rolls its molten fingers. A set of bracers rise up the entire forearm of the creation. Quaking boundaries and rolling waves of fire give shape to the shapeless. The monster stands upright and throws its head to peruse its surroundings.

Flickering, yellow embers scan all visible terrain, absorbing the besieged city and those who dwell within its walls. Finally, as it sweeps this very road, it locks upon me. With menacing eyes, rolling claws, and cascading form, it focuses upon my being.

Then, with all its might, it lurches backwards and lets forth a horrific, deep-pitched, roar. It echoes across the lands, penetrating everything able. The sound lingers on for what feels like a brief eternity until, at long last, it ceases.

Lowering its head back to normality, it targets me once again…and what bursts from his invisible, sulfuric lungs draws my hairs to their ends.

"Sons…of…Ragnaros…" There is no visible mouth, yet it speaks with a trembling boom, "the…master…beckons…"

Each word, each syllable vibrates menacing. Each word flutters slowly…sinisterly…maliciously. And with each word…the fire behind it churns…

Bubbling boils form upon waking, fiery borders. The once stable glow whips into frenzy, a burning taint intensifying. Suddenly, a flash blares before a popping pustule spews molten fire across the stone. From each blot of gelatinous sloop, a misshapen beast of fire crawls forth.

Fire elementals, the same from the plains of decrepit forest back before Gilneas' outer gate appear, their bodies braced upon the metallic bracers. Lanky, grotesque monsters snap from the abyss, their forms unlike anything I have anything seen before – they too bearing the armbands.

Yellow embers line their faces, each pair locking firmly upon me. Yellow embers burn fiercely, each pair targeting my location. Yellow embers sparkle…their rage…their fury...beaming as my very own…

I can feel their hatred, my hairs drawn to their tips. Blood turns to ice as their malice seeps into my soul. Fear caresses my pours. All while muscles upon my chest creep inward, tightening ominously.

Fingertips crawl upon the vast of the clenching seizure. Eyes align upon the towering, directed beasts of fiery expansion. Their motives routed upon me. They shift forward…yet…I cannot move…

Air hisses agonizingly through swollen tendons. The borders of my reality blur, pulsating wildly and unstably. And as the beasts march forward, their once mighty hues become tainted – green edges and emerald cores replacing their fiery demeanor.

And as they march forward, vanishing into the sea of my own internal despair…a mighty flash of arching lightning slams into the towering beast, the first, before bouncing into the others. They whip wildly, as if pained. But that is of little importance…

Now…all that is remains is my own green pasture of nothingness…

Trees line a rounded, smooth, tall-grass hill -- such a splendid sight, if not for the circumstances. It is so pure…so…unscathed but any sort of war.

Suddenly, a bright flash consumes the whole of my vision. Appearing in my sight is a row of teal buildings, a light green flame radiating from their tops. Another burst of light devours my reality, and to my dismay, the road reappears, yet is veiled by a dark green mist,

A strong sense of nausea fills the void of my gut, while confusion rattles my mind. The world grows light – I can barely keep myself upright. A third pulsation rattles the remainder of my internal workings, all balance naught.

It is then a painful surge rushes across my body, and I find myself flying to the side. Instantly, the green hue is shattered, leaving behind a shifting realm of reality. A mesh of brown and darkness fills my sight before sharp stinging rolls down my spin.

A fierce bounce of my skull against a giving block causes weak vibrations amongst my mind. I blink once…twice…my eyes dilating to the shadows of this area. An odd combination of anxiety and fear swells within my mind, and I make to shout; however, a warm, large hand slaps against my mouth.

"Mon, do not move." Tok's beak appears in sight, leaning over my body, "drink dis."

He shoves a large, blackish bottle to my lips. I, however, seal my mouth briefly before throwing my eyes to the troll and curiously speaking. The combined moment of the dreamland and suddenly being shoved into this room just…too…much…

"Tok, what in the world is…"

"Mon…do wat I say!"

Shaking the bottle, he stirs a fluid within. My eyes lock briefly before darting back upwards. I take a deep breath, try to control my oscillating bones, and reply…

"Tok, I am not going to do anything until you tell me what is happening!"

My lips quiver gently as the final word slips past them. A quaking body vibrates as the confusion, fear, and disbelief gains complete control over me…

Tok, perusing my said form, takes in what I so willingly show and sighs. He draws his eyes to mine after a second of scanning.

"Mon…" He tilts the flask, "drink dis…I can give ya wat I know."

His eyes borrow deeply into my soul. Thick, kind pupils hide the apathetic sensation he so normally shows. A weak frown signifies caring, yet…I am not sure. Then…emerging from the right portion of his robes, near his heart…is a tiny, wriggling…orange…menace.

She chirps then peers up at the troll, as if waiting. Well…if she likes him…

Reaching forward, I grasp the flask in my hand, align my lips, and take a hearty drink. The liquid is tasteless, yet numbs my throat as it slithers down. It coils, bends and bubbles down my esphogaus and splashes into my stomach. An explosion of frosty chill wafts through the epicenter of my belly.

Quickly, the troll rips the bottle from my lips…then…oddly fades into the haze of a gray cloud. My vision ripples vertically, radiating waves fully visible. A thick, gray mist rolls across the vast my sight, and I nervously pull myself to a sitting position.

Ahead, a road is visible, but there is nothing upon them -- no flames…no beasts. What did he just do? My heart quickens while my lungs draw in air more rapidly…

_You need to calm down, you sissy._

Suddenly, a quaking form of a troll appears. Seconds later, a tiny raptor smacks its lips as if well satisfied. I watch her…enjoying herself. Sure…act that way, you little…

"Mon, dat be much better!" Tok pats his chest and burps, "excuse me, mon."

Without hesitating, I narrow my vision upon him, pull myself to my feet and glare angrily down at the troll. He gawks upwards, knowing full well what I want, yet he will receive motivation from me first.

"Tok, you can start explaining by telling me why we are gray…and…shaky…"

His eyes roll in their sockets as they shift towards me. A deep sense of sincerity fills the vast of his demeanor. Slowly, eerily, he rises to his feet, towering over me.

"Dat be an invisibility elixir, mon. It done last only a few minutes, so we gotta be quick."

Nervous eyes flutter towards the entrance of the room briefly before floating back to me.

"Do ya know of da Old Gods, mon?"

The random question puzzles me, yet seems to fits in perfectly with most of our other little discussions. I swallow harshly as if inhaling a handful of sand and give the troll a weak nod.

"Yeah, Carlin told me about them: evil beings, they tried to fight the titans but lost. Now they are trapped in…um…" my eyes drift upwards as I attempt to retrieve said information,"…in the planet…?"

Tok narrows his brow before sighing heavily,

"Yeah, mon, you be correct. Dem Old Gods stirred up some of da evil voodoos before being beaten into da crust of dis planet." His tone alters; utter seriousness lazed within each word. "But it be more den dat, mon. Dem souls be fused within Azeroth as well, locked within da blueprints of dis world."

I cock an eyebrow as he finishes his statement to fully depict my confusion.

"Wait…blueprints? What blueprints? That doesn't make any sense…"

Interrupting me, the troll throws his hands to my upper arms. They wrap gently around my flesh.

"Da blueprints be da place of non-corruption, before us mortals. Ya know of dem blueprints better den da lot of us, mon." Large eyes dart nervously towards the door then back to me, "it be where ya go when ya body fails ya. It be where ya soul escapes to when ya mind cannot comprehend. Da blueprints…be da Emerald Dream."

I do not hesitate or think before my lips sunder.

"You are telling me…when I randomly begin to slip away…I am not going to some place of my own?"

He nods.

"Right, mon. And dere be plenty of udders waiting dere for ya. Dere, thousands of souls mingle amongst dis planet's once perfection. Including da Old Gods."

A harsh swallowing sound radiates from his lips before he continues.

"Dey were supposed to be barred witin da spaces of da Dream, a mere tether between the bad voodoos of da Gods and da Dream, but…da beasts done found a way to turn dere prison, dere weakness, into dere strength."

I can feel his fingers tighten.

"Dey use dere link to da Emerald Dream as a gateway fo dere dark creations. Dey use it to build a vast army. Dey use it…as dere means to invade the Dream."

"But why?"

The troll draws closer to me.

"Da Dream is another realm, separate from dis…but…wit da proper means da two can be brought together. It is by dese means dat the Gods' Avatars have been attacking dis world. It is by dese means…dat dey plan ta escape…utterly…mon."

Shifting eyes signify a distraught troll, and with them stirs a discomfort within me. As fear trickles down the back of my throat, I feel my maw open…

"How do they plan to do that? And what does this have anything to do with me?" I stare intently, feverishly into the eyes of the troll, "Why are we talking about the Old Gods..."

Violently and suddenly he gives me a shaking, anxiety, desperation slowly forming upon his face.

"Because…ya be da boy dat can summon an army of souls when needed. Ya da boy wit da souls witin his own body!" Jerking forward, his gnarled snout draws close, "Ya are a gateway for spirits, mon, and when ya second voice, a part of ya soul, done severe himself from ya soul…he done force upon da gate."

He swallows once more, his tensions seeping fully into my fearful form.

"Tok…"

"Ya should be dead, mon!" He is almost to a shouting tone, "Ya be bouncing between both realms uncontrollably, and dem Old Gods have noticed."

Optics sweep for the door once again.

"Each time ya fall asleep, they feel ya, mon. Each time ya pass into da Emerald Dream, dere hunger grows. And now, wit da dark voodoos of da Demon Soul, dey know where ya be at all times…"

Despair, depression, nervousness and horror fill the void of his expression. I make to speak, but his words…his statements…they batter my mind into near submission.

"Dey want out, mon, and if dey reach ya body in dis state, dey will be able to pass from dere world…into ours." He hesitates, his lips quivering, "Or worse, mon…"

"Worse…" my body trembles.

"Wit ya soul splintered, I fear dey might be able to fuse dere soul wit yours. I fear dey might be able to force dere spirits directly into your physical form, bringing dem to life without da means of summoning…"

A long, slender nose tilts downwards, allowing full sight of a set of intently focused eyes. Each orb pours into me the answers to my questions, despite my liking or not. Each orb tells a story, but pales in comparison to the lips just below them.

"Da Old Gods fight da Ancients as we speak; battle the Druids and the Followers of the Titanic Path. Dey fight each other…and something…beyond your worst nightmares…"

A sundered teal maw oscillates fearfully.

"For, ya see, mon, dere can be but one which stands triumphant. Da world itself will rage! Da elements will fight to get ya in da hands of dere masters! Only one winner, mon. Only one god." He pauses fearfully, "Da War of da Last God has begun and this planet will churn until it is finished."

He ceases all activity, all movement, yet it feels as if the entire planet moves. Interlocking strands of thought become a spider web of confusion. The Old Gods are trying to find me. Their…Lieutenants have been unleashed. And, to add to my epitome of dismay…that is not the worst of it. According the troll, there is something beyond that which has been explained…

And my slipping lips must know…

"Tok, you…you…s-s-said, "fear solidifies as stutters and stammers, "there was s-s-something, w-w-orse."

He blinks once then pauses a long, lingering moment, as if to taunt me.

"Da Old Gods demselves created a being long ago. Da Gods brought ta life a monster dat brings dem fear. Da gods…spawned da…"

Suddenly, the borders of my reality quake, the gray tinge fading slightly. Tok rolls his head upon his shoulders as he navigates the span of the room. He too noticed it…and as he looks back to me, desperation becomes his only expression.

"It is up, mon." He gives me a gentle shake, "when dis wears off, run. Do not stop, do not let da baddies scare ya. Just run. Use your strength, mon, and just run."

Confused, I try to speak. "Tok...I cannot..."

"Dis not be da time for weakness, mon. Find dat strength ya found against da Dark General, and use it!"

There is a brief silence between us. My eyes lock with his. Strength floods from his form while cowardice and weakness flows from mine. He is right, I must not let the events and stories batter my mind. There will be time for that...later...

"Where to? Where do you want me to run?" I manage to speak with a bit more control, the troll's weak rally working.

"Down da road, mon. To da sea."

Then, as if on queue, the edges of my vision rattle once more before the flood of darkness and burning embers consumes the once gray hue. Shadows seep the room, while dimmed fires churn from my side.

"Run, bruddah. RUN!"

Without hesitating, I catapult to my side. My head cocks, lagging behind my shifting form. In seconds, I find myself dashing headlong through the battered entrance, past a pile of battered, metallic bracers, and into the brackish storm.

Ashen debris slaps sides of my face and blocks the vast of my view. Just barely can I see through the haze, maybe ten feet ahead of me at best. Alas, I am given no time to gawk as the forceful palm of a motivating troll sends me hurtling downhill.

Heavy feet slap the soft-crusted stone path. Bursts of red and black fill the void of the murky, destructive fog. But none of it slows me. With each passing, I gain speed. With each passing second, I find myself gathering haste. With each second…until they appear…

Yards ahead are a pack of alliance soldiers. Lumbering over them is a massive fire construct. The multitudes are locked in combat; all sense of flight lost from the mortals as they engage the giant monster.

I make to aid them, but the words of the troll fill my mind. Against all will and desire, I find myself shooting behind the monstrosity and continuing on my path. The cries of their battle rain from behind us, but are dimmed in the raging abyss.

In seconds the first skirmish is lost, but is quickly replaced by another small pocket of war appears. Once more I navigate around the interlocked foes and continue onward. A third vision of war ensues, yet is lost to our full-inclined sprint.

Unexpectedly, I find myself stumble as the ground levels. My arms shoot forward as adrenaline feeds my shocked body. Legs slip against the slippery ash, but are able to keep upright. Seconds pass, and I find myself growing a bit uneasy as I continue onward.

The last time the ground leveled…it was upon a platform…

"Let da winds guide ya, mon!" Tok yells from my side as the edge of my own prediction comes into sight, "jump from rooftop ta rooftop! Da winds will not fail ya!"

Disbelief clutches my soul, but there I no time to stop now. So, ignoring all rhyme and reason, I continue my pace, lock my legs…and leap forward.

Gusty breezes navigate around all my limbs as the ground falls far behind. The forces of gravity jerk violently at my epicenter, stirring nervous fluids within my stomach. However, the fall seems to be absorbed by something unseen…

_You heard him say the wind! You know it…_

After a brief moment of gliding, my feet lock with an intact roof. The slanting shingles give me no base; so once again, I bend my knees and hurl myself forward. For a second time I float gently before landing upon a second building. A third and fourth building slip underneath me as I move; each one bringing a strange sense of tranquility to my body.

It is…until the demonic, thundering voice shatters all thought and all reason…

"TROLL!" It rains horrifically from behind us, "you brought me my lunch!"

An agonizing wall of heat slams into my spine and washes up my back and down my legs. Bright illumination blares from behind, and forces me to glance backwards. And as I do, an orange wall of expanding clouds rolls towards us.

Bursting from the epicenter of the growing fumes is none other than the Lord of Destruction himself…

"May my master's reign be supreme!"

A gapping, parted jaw emerges from the clouds. Fangs line the edges of a bright-orange pit of fire and brimstone. Locked eyes align upon my body; the feast marked with the furiosity that the Destroyer's optics brings.

I make to flee the ever-nearing clutches of his mouth, but my legs do nothing against he predetermined route of the winds. Arms flail uselessly as the beast draws closer. Legs whip wildly as the maw fills the void of my vision.

He is closing in, and there is nothing I can do…

However, as anxiety grasps my soul, and desperation sinks in, a set of teal hands appear in the span of my sight. The six digits lock firmly upon the lower jaw, and are quickly hidden by a lifted torso. With the troll tilts the mighty head, enough to drag the heat-ridden abyss from my path.

Sadly, the course of the beast is not completely redirected. In a flash, I feel the sharp, obsidian spines plastered upon his face strike my back. I tumble head over heel, unable to control myself.

I am at the mercy of the thrashing torrents that are stirred by the passing behemoth. Winds cling to my sides, throwing me into the sky. It is as if I am a mere leaf caught in an updraft.

Sharply, I find myself plummeting downwards. A sheet of black navigates below me-- the wings of the beast shooting past. Buildings spin in and out of sight as I roll. Clouds appear and disappear, replaced by pockets of green and brown below.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I find myself compelled by nature's pull. I slam painfully into the ground, and am left to my dizzy state. The clouds overhead twist and bend -- a churning pool of darkness. My body trembles gently, reacting to the rush as one could imagine.

I should move, but…everything is still spinning…

_You need to quit your belly-aching and get up_!

And as the words of my own voice fill my head, so does the quaking ground shake my body. Instantly, I find myself sitting upright and pulling to my feet. Stern feet slip against the moist, slippery, soft ground below. Fingertips draw against unctuous blades.

My eyes dart downwards to find an vast field of gentle, dark-green…grass…

But as I gawk, the earth shakes again before a wall of exploding dirt fills the side of my vision. Appearing in the right corner of my eye is a long, black limb – charred and fired. It slams fiercely into the earthen ground, turning the field into a pulpy pool of dirt.

A dragon whips his head maddeningly, attempting to dislodge a tall, lanky figure from his skull. Pools of molten lava pour from the edges of his lips, vomited to maim the interloper. Unfortunately for the beast, the tiny fighter simply throws himself up and on top of the monster's upper jaw.

There he grips one nostril while another arm drives the spike of a staff deep into the other. Flashing from within the hollow, mucus path, is an array of white sparks and teal streaks. Instantly, the dragon bellows loudly, pain evident. The thrashing returns, this time far more violently.

Massive, iron spines twist and bend to the lashing skull. A sheet of skin lags in an oscillating fashion behind the whipping head. A vast body bucks and bows wildly, all efforts to remove the pest unleashed. Claws rip and mangle pockets of dirt as the fiend shuffles aimlessly.

And from the pockets of lifted earth do I find myself looking downwards. Just barely visible behind the wall of spiraling soil is a vast, blue horizon. Closer are brightly glowing, smoldering sails of ignited ships interconnected by shattered, twisted, and snapped docks.

The ashen haze seems to be lessened here, the vast of the world visible. Darkened colors still rain like the rest of this zone. Around me rests a large, open space covered in grass and eventually gray stone before the docks themselves.

Dozens of ships float upon the rolling tides, yet are left to send only towers of pillowing smoke into the skies. Others, more fortunate, drift from the chaotic events and sail out to sea. One, however, sits patiently at the edge of an intact, wooden plank. Aboard are numerous figures – all blurred.

All except for one, wielding a large, blue beacon of a weapon. Darion.

_You must head to it! You must follow its call! You must remember the Troll's words!_

My eyes shift to the still battling figures to my side – a dragon and troll engaged fiercely. An ancient construct, born from the ashes ten of thousands of years ago, jerks in all efforts to remove a dwarfed mortal crafted within this very century. Of the two, is but one that keeps me focused. Of the two, it is but one that truly to speaks to me…

And his word calls…to run…

_You will run like the wind!_

Grass clings gently to my leather soles. Dirt cushions bending limbs. Muscles lock firmly. A mighty drum beats the rapid rhythm to ready my race. Tenacious veins field the fuel necessary for assault.

In a flash, all my aspects align and the world shifts beneath me.

Soil sinks beneath my catapulting limbs. Battling foes rage out of my vision, lost to the haste my sprinting body delivers. Lungs fill and collapse catatonically. All focus locked upon the dock and ship ahead.

Suddenly, appearing in the right corner of my sight is a hulking, scaly and metallic limb. Waves ripple from the claw's impact spot, throwing my balance off. Instability sends me toppling forward, but my sturdy arms brace and throw me back into a proper motion.

Ignoring the two, I continue onward, passing the grassy knoll. Feet slap the firm stone of the outer edges of this area. From here, I know the docks are close. From here, I know that safety is just a short distance away…

But the obstacles involved will make this gap feel as if to stretch forever…

"No! NO!" A frustrated thunder booms, "You will not escape me as you did the General!"

Uncontrollably, I twist backward as I run. Standing firmly is the monstrous dragon, iron scales sparkling in the dull light. Tok clings feverishly still, but the tiny figure has lost all deterrence on the beast. Once again…the charcoal eyes are aligned upon me.

The beast tilts his head forward before releasing a cloud of pitch-black soot from his nostrils. Tok stumbles backwards as the plume consumes him. Instantly, the dragon whips his head back, throwing Tok into the air. The troll seems lost, if not for his quick grip of the mangled horn. He promptly throws his feet back upon the obsidian platform and slams his staff into the beast's head.

A green glow pulses from the bottom end of the rod, but it is too late…

"I will not let you escape!" One claw lurches forward, "Death will find you before I ever fail my master!"

Another claw shifts the beast forward. A third and then fourth gain movement, throwing the Destroyer forward with all fury. I too let my body gain all speed necessary. No longer shall I waste time. No longer shall I delay my escape!

But it is not I that shall tamper my departure…

"Perish in the raging inferno, Vessel! May your ashes feed the tides!"

Before I can turn to look, a bright flash fills the sky behind me. In a blur of a moment, the light intensifies over my head, brightens in the middle of my sight before finally ending near the bottom of my optics – something falling in my sight.

And before I can turn, a mighty quake sends me stumbling forward. Once more, I am able to keep my footing, but sadly, I am forced to look onto that which has brought me to this improper stance.

Flares burst from the sides of the wooden dock. Embers rain from the edges of the smoldering frame. Fires race the widths of the boards, running headlong for me. This isn't good…

_You should…run harder?_

Without hesitating, I face forward once again and let the new found adrenaline within my veins guide me. Faster and faster I gain speed. Faster and faster I run the lengths of this dock. Faster and faster…yet not speedy enough…

Glowing light signifies the advance of pursuing flames. Sounds of crackling wood alarm of me intercepting fire. Quaking wooden planks notify me of a failing platform…

Despite all of this, I can see the nearing ship only a short distance ahead. The space between us narrows quickly, yet I am not certain my speed is enough!

Feet smack the dock below me at a frequency never felt before. Flames lick my heels mercilessly, tasting my demise with every flicker. Shouts of my companions reach my ear, motivating my advance. Embers embrace my death, beckoning for me to trip.

Only a short distance left, all the strength needed unleashed!

Only a short distance remaining, flames rippling frantically!

Hands of fellow heroes ready.

Tendrils of the inferno prepare!

So close.

Yet so far.

And with all power left, I leap forward.

And with all rage remaining, the dock collapses downward.

Time itself slows, a wall of fingers outstretched for me. All reality lags, flames extinguishing in the waters below. For a brief moment, I feel as if I am suspended here, waiting for the heroes to save me, praying for the villains to fail. For a brief moment, the entirety of my existence is narrowed upon the head of a needle.

And as the hands, the fingers, the will of my friends come into reach, I know that fate has tipped me in the right direction.

I am not sure who grabs me first, but as the gnarled digits latch upon me, time regains its might, and I find myself bouncing onto the deck of a grand ship. Calls and chants fill the void of my mind, but all I can think of is one on the docks.

Standing erect, I let my eyes gaze back to the shore. The towering beast gazes forward, the man a top his head lost in the spectacle of my survival. All his rage is directed towards me, and with his sudden advance, he is not finished…

And with his voice, his full rage is exposed…

"Defy me no longer, insect! That ship shall be your tomb!"

As he completes his lost booming, bellowing word, he expands his wings and readies for flight. As he nears the dock, he readies to soar. And as he throws his claws onto the stone, a troll slams a green-tinted staff a second time.

Taking to the skies, Deathwing prepares for our destruction. But what he fails to realize is that behind him comes the might of a true shaman. Mounds of dirt and grass whip into the air, trailing close behind the monstrosity.

A tendril of earthen material shoots like a lasso from the knoll, catching the dragon mid-flight. Like a dog at the limits of its leash, the mighty beast is jerked downward – his wings shooting upward unnaturally.

Waters below churn and bubble for the beast. His wings are useless as his weight plummets for that which so yearns. But one part of his body still serves its purpose. At its tallest heights, the head serves as a launch pad for the mighty troll. Catapulting across the maw of the monster, Tok throws his hands to the air and lets the winds guide him.

Drifting across the sky is a gentle troll. He wafts delicately as the dragon agonizingly slams into the curling tides. Each washing wave envelops the beast until all but the bubbles of his breath are all that remain.

Finally, after a few short seconds, the troll floats to the now moving ship. He quietly skitters to a stop amidst the deck and turns back to the roaring waters. I turn am forced to refocus my sight upon the landing zone of the dragon.

The bubbles continue violently. Steam rises from the boiling mess, the heat from his body enough to churn the sea itself. It doesn't seem possible, but…but Deathwing may be at his end…

_You are dreaming now…_

Unfortunately, as my own voice depresses me, the sights of disturbed waters fill my vision. Emerging first is a mangled, iron fist. A portion of the charred material appears to have been absorbed by the cool waters, but much of it remains. It slams angrily into the dock's stone rim before the second drags the head and vast of the torso into sight.

It takes but a few, unpleasant moments before the steaming monster pulls himself onto land completely. There, he vomits clouds of black clouds, coughing profusely as he does. Plumes rise from all inches of his body, the water's might extinguishing part of his flame.

Alas, not even the sea can smother his fires…

His hue quickly returns at his core before growing across his vast. Smoldering ash reignites while his internal inferno is quickly rekindled. A yellow taint returns to his eyes, and the charcoal beads find themselves locked upon me again.

Once he has rid himself of the watery debris, he turns the length of his body towards us, spreads his wings, and barks a thousand explosions for us all to hear.

"Time means nothing, troll! Gears of my master's return have actuated! He shall be unleashed, no matter your efforts!"

A glowing, darkened core pulsates sinisterly.

"The War of the Last God has begun! And its end shall be with his rebirth!"

Echoing across the heavens is the monstrous cry of the wounded monster. Echoing across the vast of time and space is the bellow of darkness itself. Echoing across the world is the alarm of what is to come.

Following is a silence that does nothing more than confirm the confusion, the anxiety, and the fear of the sentences announced. Following…is complete and utter emptiness. Following, is simply the roar of the wind and the beat of my heart.

And both tell me…I am not going to like what is waiting ahead…


	20. Chapter 18: The Great Sea Wall

_"You cannot escape the Mist once it finds you. You can only pray you are strong enough once it grows bored of you..."_

_A survivor of a Kvalidor naval ambush._

* * *

Above, the endless wastes of gray mists fold upon themselves. Flares of tinged amber gleam sinisterly beneath clouds of ominous despair. Fleeting moments of darkened hopelessness fasten amongst the already depressed state of our ship. A heavy haze shortens our vision, a heavenly fog of damnation. Our very own blanket of sorrow.

Below, churning tides shake and quake the vast of our presence. On the surface rest calm, tranquil waves of deep blue. Borrowing further, you find nothing but hollow darkness – complete agony for anyone daring to venture into such depths. Our very own base of infinite mystery.

And in between rests a crew of disheartened, dismayed, and distraught men – plus a raptor. All we have known for two days is this same situation, endless dark clouds and a brimming, brackish sea. All we have known for two days is constant bickering, feuding, and internal warring. All we have known…for two, long days…are a sailing ship and the chaos of the current world.

For as we venture onward, the isles scattered across these blue plains are raging. Skies rain spiraling tornadoes. Seas let loose towering waves. Earth and fire churn volcanoes of molten fury. Green goblins flee their homes as the destruction stretches to these lost lands. Even upon these insignificant dots of ground does the cataclysm still reach.

Yet, that note is still nothing to our own self-concocted dilemmas…

"Dwarf, throw it into the sea." Nathanos scurries across the middle of the deck. "Or I will be force to use you as its anchor."

I sit upright, pressing back against the wooden railing of the bow. This has to be the…tenth time this same argument has risen.

"Lad, I am not tossing this here object to the tides,,,"

"Why must you be so stubborn? It is why we are here! It is why we are being chased!"

Interjecting swiftly is Brann once again, "Stubborn? Ye are the one still harassing me about the soul! It still has purpose!"

"Purpose?" Nathanos shuffles past Darion and Tok. "Unlike you, that is."

"Ye got no brain in that rotted basket of a skull there?" Brann steps forward. "Without me, ye would be dead by the King's hands ten times over!"

"Please! He has been trying that for years, like an army would change that outcome!"

"Gah!" Brann groans loudly, "Ye are so dense!"

The two come within feet of each other, rage flooding the very wooden base they stand upon. And, as like all times of verbal raging, I find myself…floating into the sanctum of my mind. Let the perusing begin!

To their sides stand the Death Knight and Tok, both of which are perturbed yet rather focused. Sitting underneath the stairs by the all is Saylem – fast asleep in his own ignorant realm.

Overlooking the pack is the King of Stormwind, Wrynn, King Greymane, and a rather confident figure only known as Cappy – Captain? That same man bolsters a tattered garment of blue and brown; the vast of it hidden by his massive trench coat that reaches from shoulder to floor. A cigar hangs from his lips, unlit.

That same man is the very individual that regaled us with grand sea stories when we were hoarse enough to allow him to speak. He spoke of battles of the past; of fights we couldn't dare imagine. He told us of recent strives and overwhelming odds. He told us...of myths and of legends of an unbelievable sea war that is currently taking place.

The captain told us that there are hundreds of ships at the border of this haze, at the boundaries of what he called "The Mist." His stories beheld ships spawned from this very fog as well as coral crafts of serpent heathens. And he told us of the Great Sea Wall. A completely unbelievable scene of hundreds upon hundreds of warring, sunken, and destroyed ships; a never ending display of the current conflict. And he told us, during high noon of the third day that we would break the Mist...and find this mythical sight.

During the third day, in the middle of the day, we would find ourselves pitted against Alliance, Horde, Fog, and Serpent ships. During the third day we would become a mere speck amongst a tower of wooden vessels. During the third day, the cries of war would consume us. During the third day, the day of today, we would find the Great Sea Wall, the churning horrors of the Maelstrom, and our quickest route to Kalimdor.

Sea stories...crazy, aren't they?

Anyway, enough of that, back to my wanderings.

Across from them, on the opposite end of the length of this vessel, rests myself, Squeals in my lap, and the two figures that came with Greymane. Shifting my eyes from the quarreling few, I focus firmly upon the odd duo next to me.

One is rather aged, gray hair and wrinkles redefining his person. His head is cocked backwards and he is fast asleep. There is nothing truly significant about this man besides his age. He must be a friend…or…worker of Greymane.

_You are, once again…Captain Obvious._

Moving on, condescending voice of mine, the second fellow is far fitter and younger than the other. A thin layer of sheeted armor rests across the vast of his body. Dents and scratches run the lengths of his suit, revealing its time and experience upon the field.

He carries a round, short shield that bears no marks or special features. His sword, however, is slightly unique. Despite the common craftsmanship and make of the blade, the handle bears strange characteristics. The wood seems to glisten and gleam brightly, as if molded from some magical tree. The blade guard flows and bends beautifully and one word is etched into its surface…"Elune."

A night elf sword?

_You, sir, are…_

Don't you say it!

_You don't know what I was going to say._

I know sure well what you were going to say! What do you take me for, an idiot? Wait, don't you answer that.

_You didn't know how I was going to respond to that either_.

Fine, fine, maybe you were going to be polite and agreeing, but I have my eye on you.

_You do? You have some talent then, sir, for I am in your head_.

Yes, I know where you are.

_You sure about that?_

Hey! Don't make me come in there!

_You wouldn't stand a chance in my house, son!_

Just watch me!

"Annoying, isn't it?"

A sudden, unfamiliar voice shatters the odd moment of mine. Sadly, as I come back to reality, I find the voice radiating from the same person I must have been starring at for a good few minutes -- it is the warrior. This isn't awkward or anything. Thankfully, he is not looking at me at the moment…

Then, as if he had heard me, he glances in my direction and speaks again. But, before he speaks, a distant, barely audible sound distracts me. What was that?

"You ok?"

I shake my head, break from my head, and fold my lips in an indefinite manner.

"Yeah...as ok as I can be." Quickly, I blink and attempt to redirect the topic from me. "So, what is annoying?"

His eyes focus briefly upon the still arguing couple on deck.

"The constant fighting. I am a man that loves the sea, and can tolerate the heartiest of fellow, but this is too much." He looks back to me. "As my father always said, 'Son, I love the ocean, I just hate the people that I sail with.'"

He smirks.

"Looks like I am following in his footsteps."

I am not exactly sure what he is getting at, but…wait…maybe I do. Nathanos can be quite annoying. And that dwarf? Well, he is carrying the icon of hellfire's embrace, so…I might hate him too.

_You might? You know he is luring the world to you!_

Woah, you do not know that. Maybe he just thinks its pretty, and…wait...another muffled, distant noise. What is that?

"Wandering in your head, eh?"

Instantly, the words break my train of thought. How in the world did he know that? Did he guess it? How could he even if he did? A strange sense of discomfort grips the vast of my flesh as I gawk at this fellow.

Oddly, he simply smirks again and nods as if confirming something unknown.

"Hope Blackwood, right?" He lifts a firm, metal fist to me. "I bear many a name, but most call me Colonel Kowl."

As he finishes his words, an unnerving chill creeps down my spine. Whipping in from the seas rolls a mighty wind, drawing chills to all expanses of my body. His lines strike me dumb, yet his kind gestures seem to assure me of something…different…

Reluctantly, my eyes drift downwards, locking upon the iron hand. He seems to know a good deal about me, or at least he seems to. But I do have my own tale that follows me. Maybe, just maybe…he learned of it just like Brann…

So, hesitantly, I extend my hand outward, wrap my fingers around his mitt, and give a firm shake. An intense frost ripples up my arm and consumes my body; a second gust of powerful wind, I am betting. At that, he releases the tension, recoils his arm, and nods his head. The gust whips across the rest of my body and vanishes into nothingness.

"An honor, truly. The people of Gilneas have heard much of you, Hope." Fingers flicker upon the hand I shook, "Well, anyone willing to hear a tale beyond our own fate…"

Depression sweeps the vast of his face, and all words are lost in its void. Something deep within this said individual has stirred a mild war within him, and I am rather curious to find out what that might be.

"Fate? What fate might that be?"

Quivering eyes dance with a man's head. Answers stream some unknown space behind the thick stubble and long, brown locks upon his head. This man, Colonel Kowl, seems lost in some time and some place beyond our own. Or possibly behind…

A sudden flinch and a set of buckling lips bring him back to.

"It was just over six years ago. Yes, six." He bobs his head to confirm his own doubt, "About the same time the Great Greymane wall was built, our king returned home from a grand voyage to some unknown land. Kalimdor to us now."

Once again, his head bobs.

"His return was to usher a time of prosperity. His return was to manifest a grand era for the Kingdom of Gilneas. His return…brought the Curse."

He hesitates to draw back any revealed emotions.

"Within weeks, the Curse had spread from household to household, sparing none from its wrath."

Kowl makes to speak, but I properly interject as he draws for breath.

"Curse?"

Pained eyes drift towards mine, "Fur covered every inch of our flesh. Snouts broke and defined our faces. Fangs lined our foaming maws. Howls filled the night."

He swallows harshly.

"Curse of the Worgen, Hope. Our people's curse and your people's hated enemy."

Worgen. Wolfmen. I do not know how in the world a curse like that started there, but I am not scientist nor genius -- don't you dare respond to that! However, he isn't one now…

"You don't seem cursed to me…"

"No, I wouldn't. You see, the King recently found a rather potent cure for his people, but only had a few to…test…it upon." Rage devours his expression, "So, like a good soldier, I took his potions, his elixirs, and his 'cures' as one should. And, after months of struggling, the right concoction was found, and I am now rid of that which so haunted me."

Angry, malicious optics roam for the man on the deck.

"So much pain, so much anguish for that man. So much time wasted. And he cannot even get my rank correct. Lieutenant, Captain, Knight…!" He rambles to himself, "Private, even. Can you believe?"

Suddenly, he eyes break from the King, and he sighs heavily.

"Apologizes, he does that to me." He blinks. "So, where were we? Ah, yes, a cure was found, but not enough was to go around. Even as we were rid of our illness, many more were still consumed."

His eyes drift downward again, "A disunity was formed, and for years a civil war rage. Up until the legions of Undead swarmed our gates, and the alliance rallied to give us aid."

Frowning, the man shakes his head.

"Gilneas is buried in the shadow of our once grand state. Now all we have is our despair, or sorrow, and self pity. Now all we have is our few believes, our legends...and our hope."

At that moment his eyes lock firmly upon me. Darting within their sockets, they hunt my own optics. They dance angrily, yet eject an aura of pure, harmless determination. I am not sure what he is searching for, but his entire body seems lost in my presence. It as if he is seeing something that he hadn't noticed before. It is as if...he is reading me as he sits...

"Hope Blackwood, "his eyes do not part, "son of a sinister necromancer of the Lich King himself. Hope Blackwood, son of the man that channeled dark magics to fuse two dark agents within his own boy's soul. Hope Blackwood..."

His lips quiver.

"The man that lived amongst the wastes of the damned. The man that lived with evil within him." A confident, upbeat tone chimes from his words now, "Yet, the two demons found the light from that thought weak! They were freed by their very prison! They became the boy's strength, and would guide him from his defiled home, across the very world itself and into the lap of that which haunted him."

He leans forward, hope and belief fueling his soul.

"And with his bare hands, he tore from the dark being his crown, he shattered the Frozen Throne, and brought an empire to an end." A tear boils at the corner of his eye, and his voice elevates, "Lord Blackwood, the Light Bringer, the Wanderer...and Gravedigger...did what no man dare do. The Gravedigger...

The lone bead of salty water breaks free and glides down his dried cheek.

"...redefined the meaning of hope. And brings those lost in the darkness...the courage they need to overcome."

He bounds his chest, his lips curl to keep from crying, and bobs his head approvingly.

"And he lets us all...we can be...free...from whatever evil haunts us." As he speaks that statement, his eyes shoot briefly to Greymane. It would seem that this man finds himself in a state undesirable, and that this man he so dislikes is the cause.

_You might just have someone in common with you._

Silence follows the last, triumphant line. Silence follows, except for the distant booms that are rather easily ignored. Instantly, I find myself devouring his word. The very tale I live seems alive with might unlike anything I have heard before. The very tale that I create stirs me, yet binds my lips. The very tale of my life, summed in mere minutes, brings a newfound light almost lost in all the shadows. The very tale...

Suddenly, a smirk bathes his face and he weakly chuckles.

"I always...thought you would be taller, though."

Neither of us speak as the last line is emitted. Then, almost simultaneously, our lips sunder, our maws begin to vibrate, and we laugh. We laugh as if we never had before. We laugh. Even Squeals squirms, vibrates, and chirps joyfully. Well, Colonel, we may have known each other for a few days, but I am already growing attached.

_You can never be as attached to him as you are me. Right?_

Ha, never. You haunt me too much to ever like him more.

_You know it!_

But, even as our joy unfolds, the darkness has yet to release its grasp and flee its pursuit. Unexpectedly, the ship rocks violently. Bolts of pain burst from the middle of my back and upper shoulders as I collide against the railing. Ringing ricochets within my skull, but is dulled by the roaring cries of the companions upon the ship.

I quickly compose myself, jerk my body to the side and let the sight of a quaking ship envelop my sight. Upon the upper deck stand three, sturdy figures all of which grip the same wheel. Gliding and skidding across the lower deck is a pack of feuding friends and a still sleeping idiot -- Saylem. Tok grabs hold of the main mast and quickly grips the tiny dwarf. Darion, however, shifts gracefully upon the tilting craft, skillfully gains footing on the staircase nearest the tipping side, and clutches the undead man heading towards the water.

In a flash the two are firmly upon the deck. Just in time for when they are properly stationed, a roaring wave crashes angrily against the side of the vessel. Cascading currents craft calm waves across the vast of the lower deck, while furious seas batter the outer hull. Though, through the churning and thrashing, a shadowy object blurs across the tides. And, if my vision serves me well, then the same said dark entity streaks across the skies, over the railing...and out of sight...

If my vision serves me well...then something just boarded our ship...

"SON OF A..." a deep, bellowing voice rains from the upper deck, "let go of my bloody wheel, you royal pains!"

Instantly, the voice of Cappy draws my attention. Flailing wildly, the stern figure shoos the mighty Kings from their footed stance. The two break from their hold reluctantly, and let themselves skid to the railings nearby. As the two release the wheel to its true bearer, the ship rolls to the opposite side before forcefully careening to an upright position.

After a few seconds the ship oscillates into a proper float and the captain grunts loudly.

"Bah, you fools like to drive me nuts, don't you?" He adjusts the wheel at hand, "You ninnies stop bickering when something malicious occurs, yet still manage to try and kill us all!"

The man rolls the unlit cigar across his lips, "I lost focus and rammed that dead vessel like some novice pilot! Stop making me look bad, before I start making you swim!"

Silence consumes the vast of the ship. The Kings make their way back to their prior positions as the men on deck scurry to get to a more solid location. Grunts and groans rain from the now awake Saylem and from the two nearest me. Just barely can I make out Kowl coming to his feet, and the old man stirring from his slumber. It is now that I decide to pull myself to an elevated stance.

Once there, I bat my chest and back for any desecrating debris. I find nothing of disturbance, and I focus my attention elsewhere. Everyone seems stable now; the troll and dwarf against he mast and the other two near doors to the captain quarters. To their sides are the staircases, and to their right is a set of barrels.

For some strange reason, I cannot take my eyes off those wooden objects. There isn't really anything special about them, yet I feel almost compelled to gaze. Rotted sides hold the top of moisten lids. Firm ribs give definition to them all, and seem rather stable. Nothing unique...

Suddenly, one of the cylinders shakes. It wasn't much of a movement, but I saw it.

_You saw the ship's movement, no?_

No, that was something different. It was out of unison. It has to be whatever boarded the ship...

_You are just letting your mind get the best of you. You do that...a lot..._

Ignoring him, I creep across the wooden platform and shift toward the nearby stairs of this frontal section. I search the floor for the first step as my eyes keep focused upon the cargo. Once found, I carefully take down the steps. Slowly, one step passes up. Another, a third, and a fourth. In seconds, I find the bottom and tell my body level. My eyes keep locked and ready.

Something is there...I know it.

"Good Captain, could you explain the reason for a random wooden carcass so far in the middle of the waters?" I can hear King Wrynn's voice as I creep across the deck.

"Random, ha!" He chuckles, "that was about as random as a bird droppings on a statue."

"What?"

"Have you no idea of the fleet you unleashed upon these seas, good king?"

There is a pause as I take another step forward, and as the King ponders the question.

"Well, yes, but..."

"But nothing! The hundreds of vessels you let loose do not simply vanish into dull patrols." His voice booms loudly, and, as he speaks, odd, muffled bursts roll across the skies, "They are sent to the edges of the Darkness! They are sent to the heart of the churning tides...to battle not only the blood thirsty Horde...but that which deems control of the waters!"

The barrels draw closer, as do the rather distracting, distant booms. The same from earlier...

"I told you, King. I told you!" He laughs, "High noon of the third day brings us to the epicenter of our time's conflict!"

His hysteria interrupts his own speech, "And that time is now! In a matter of minutes we are going to reach the Great Sea Wall! And, once this darkened haze fades...you are in for some surprise, let me tell you."

An explosion is apparent from the once ominous bursts. Weak cries ring softly from the horizons, and I slowly lose my once determined focus.

"That was a myth, Captain..." The King seems perplexed.

There is no reply. All sounds of our crew become lost to the quickly escalating calls of the unseen. Now, cannon blasts are as clear as day, yet as ghostly as the fog around us. War cries become as natural as our own heart beat or drawing breathes. It is at this very moment that I turn back forward.

Anxiety crawls across my flesh. Fear pokes it prodding needles across the vast of my mind. A drum rolls beneath a bony cage. And with its intensified beat, come the growing sounds of war.

"Sixty seconds, men!" The captain stomps his foot for the crew below.

"Sixty seconds until what?" Once again, the King is lost. But, as if the time, we are all on the same boat -- pardon the pun.

"Forty seconds! Man the cannons!"

"Captain, I order you, what are you speaking of?"

There is a brief, ominous silence. "King, have you ever seen war?"

"Of course, what does that have to do with anything?"

I turn back briefly, and catch sight of a sinisterly smirking Captain -- a cigar hanging loosely from his almost deranged appearance. And as I stare, all the sensation of horror fill my body. And as I stare, I cannot help but feel...horrified. Quickly, I break my gaze and peer back forward.

The sounds of battle become almost overwhelming.

"Forget what you know, King." He pauses. "Fifteen seconds! Write your wills and your love letters!"

Screams fill the skies.

"Ten seconds! Prepare for a terrible wedding with death!"

Creaking wood and a baffled crew peer forward.

"Five seconds! Stop ye'blubbering, there is enough salt and water around us!"

In a flash, the haze vanishes, revealing that which is nearly indescribably.

No more than a hundred yards ahead of us is a massive, wooden vessel. It is easily four times our size, and easily ten times as armored. Hundreds of cannons run the sides of the vessel as is it cuts across our path. Even more dismaying, is the sudden cries that rain from our right side.

Throwing my eyes to the sides of this craft, brings me to a horrifying sight. To our side, no more than a few yards away, is a buckling pustule of Mist and fog. The boil expands to limits allowed before bursting. Flowing forth from the very haze we just rolled from is ship that matches not our size but that of the monstorsity ahead of us.

Massive weeds cling to the ship's rotted frame. Sickly green men flood across the top of the ship while deep, terrifying chants rain from the mighty vessel, yet their course aligns directly for that of the other. In seconds, the two near, breaking from our path. In seconds, the two's lines become one. In seconds...the mighty vessel that sundered our route t-bones the misty ship.

Both ships screech in agony as wood snaps and splinters. Seamen are sent flying across their respective decks as the inertia of both are delivered to all unbolted. Despite this collision, both ship's men are unphased, and, to my dismay, the teal figures begin boarding the mighty Horde ship. And as we pass the remarkable sight, Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, and their foes clash upon the wooden deck...

Unbelievable...

A sudden jerk diverts my focus. I turn in time to see the rear of the Horde's Juggernaught pass by our side. The captain skillfully maneuvers around the flickering debris of the shattered ruttier and navigates beyond the two warrior crafts. This has to be some sick joke.

"Your eyes do not lie, gentlemen!" Another jerk of the wheel sends me stumbling and my sight forward. "A thousand craft came! War to blame! A thousand craft came! Insanity to blame!"

He chants some rhythmic song.

"A thousand craft came! All seeking riches and fame!"

A stout Troll destroyer, a ship concocted of bone and wood, drifts towards our side.

"A thousand craft came! Our orders, the sea to tame."

It rolls to our sides, its crewmen ready for battle. My heartbeat quickens as the short cannons and angry warriors ready for our unexpected deaths.

"A thousand craft came. Our fates all the same..."

The Captain cackles manically. The Kings to his side grip the railings to the man's side, complete disillusion lathered across their faces. Below them, holding the mast, are two slack-jawed companions. Tok and Brann gawk with a utter disbelief. To their sides stand two rather eager warriors; a blue blade hungering while a quivering bow yearns.

Behind them all...stands a confused, dazed, and rattled man. This...cannot...be...real.

"A thousand craft came." Deep, rolling cackles burst forth from his insane lungs, "All dead...in the Cataclysm's name!"

He throws his hand to the side and loudly proclaims.

"FIRE AT WILL, MEN. FIRE AT WILL!"

A second passes before the deck hiccups violently. Bursts send vibrations through our feet, while trails of smoke roll from the side facing the destroyer. Another second passes, and grand explosions rip precisely into the enemy's heart. Wood and bone rain from the impact spots as the cannons find their marks. It takes no more than a couple of unbelievably blurred moments before the fools limp from our path. However, the humming plucks of a crazed undead give them no mercy.

But this battle here means little as I find myself gazing forward. For across the horizon are no less than a good hundred ships. Wooden vessels glide majestically, yet menacingly across the tides. Flaming masts rest calmly as their time is ended. Smoking ruins let the world know that death is evident amongst hollowed frames. Mingled amongst them are spiraling tornadoes from the dark clouds above, as well as crashing, merciless waves.

All of these ships, alive or dead, stretch to form a barrier that spans in all directions. The myth's we so easily ignored...are more reality than we ever dear imagine. The myths...become our waking moments while our past becomes our legends.

"Congratulations gentlemen!" We barrel towards the heart of the battle, "Welcome to the seas! Welcome...to the Great Sea Wall!"

With those last words, his delirious laugh returns, leaving us to wallow in our confusion. With those last words, we glide across the seas, aim for the hell before us, and prepare. With those last words, we leave our sanity behind, and let the winds guide us.

A thousand and one ships came. The last one bearing ours now apart of this sick game...


	21. Chapter 19: And So it Was Decided

**_Hello everyone,_**

**_Just a quick note to let all the readers to know I see you! Thank you all once again, and, of course..._**

**_Enjoy the new installment._**

* * *

_"I love fish. Its the annoying winds and rolling waters I hate."_

_Nat Pagle.

* * *

_

Ruby sparks burst on the horizon. Rolling pockets of ashen design bustle from the tops of wooden constructs. Flashing across the skies are malicious concoctions of amber and silver – lightning that brings no comfort to our plight.

Around us is the sight of war, the sight of chaos, and the sight of what can only be described as a new era of conflict. To our side many float multi-tier vessels, riddled with cannons of all shapes and sizes, but it is one that catches my attention. This one bears masts and sails that extend from the side, while a gargantuan rudder navigates its design. Aboard the ship, rest dozens of multi-colored figures, all of which do not resemble anything of my kin. And rising from its heart and into the heavens is a red banner with a black letter "H." It is symbol of the Horde. This is the same type of craft from earlier, and its name bears that which it deserves, Juggernaught.

Engaging this said vessel is another of equal girth and length. Tall, white sails draw the eye, and navigate your focus downward to the standard ship architecture of our very own vessel – except intensified four fold. Cannon ports flash and burst at its towering sides, sending death to the Orchish ship yards from it. Finally, floating in the breeze is none other than the gold lion head marking the ownership of Alliance.

Scattered around the two's behemoths are dozens of smaller crafts. A handful match that of the tiny troll vessel that we warded off, while others, painted in purple and green, match the designs of elfish nature.

These ships, however, are not truly what call to me. No, what lures my eyes are the giant rotted ships matching that of the one that rode up beside us when we first entered this nightmare.

Crawling the sides of the ship are the objects of nature's bounty: barnacles, seaweed, coral. All of which give the vessel the appearance that is was once sunk; as if it had rested at the bottom of the ocean for decades. The molded, wooden frame does not beg to differ in this argument, nor does the sickly, tattered sails. These ships seem to be molded from the ocean itself, as if signifying their true connection with the sea. Like the faction's vessels, these come in various sizes, each of which possess their own, unique qualities.

A gentle fog radiates around the larger decaying ships, while the smaller ones glide at unnatural speeds through the mist. The crew aboard them all is teal in color, and they too bear sea's flora upon their very flesh. Lastly, a folded serpent's head rests upon the front of every ship, their unwoven flag.

The last set of vessels are rather awkward in design. Matching the architecture of the elfish ships, they bear two legs that protrude to the sides and glide against water's surface. These vessels are tan, almost coral color, and hold towering masts built of the same material their colors imply. Thick, gray scales are plastered upon the sides to give armor. Cannons do not line the edges of these vessels, yet haste is crafted into the very essence of the ship. For they seem to use their speed to make quick strikes at the crew of an enemy vessel or to board swiftly. Their crew are green in nature, covered in thick, unctuous scales, and bear fins across multiple areas of their bodies. They are Serpent Men. They are Naga.

Each set of ships are unique in their own ways; each design made for its own purpose. But all that matters is that they all serve the same ends…to vanquish their foes. And, in the end, they all stand alone, all others different from their own an enemy to their own designs.

"How didn't I know of this?" King Wrynn speaks rather disappointedly.

The Captain cackles as usual, "Who was going to tell you, huh? Most ships that come here are simply tossed to the piles of the defeated, while their crews are scattered across these miserable little islands that are riddled with miserable little goblins."

"It just doesn't seem possible. So many vessels stern across this very horizon. So much destruction…" he pauses to embrace his own ignorance, "So much death. How many have fallen? How many have died, and I have not known?"

The final questions are rhetorical in nature, but from the captain's reaction, he seems ready to answer. There is momentary silence, and I find myself gawking at the fidgeting figure. The man rolls the cigar he so fondly holds across his lips in an oscillating fashion. After a few seconds he shrugs.

"I could not tell you that, King." A strange look of discomfort briefly clutches his face. "I stopped counting after all feeling, all emotion left my body. That was, oh..." his eyes drift upwards, "about three months ago."

"Three months ago?" Greymane shouts in a puzzled manner, "…what possible means of insanity leads you to believe that this sortie has been taking place for over three months?"

The Captain shrugs, "Well, it all started when the Maelstrom began churning…more so than the wench already had. Tornadoes, tidal waves, lightning strikes, all sorts of horrors rained from her gullet, adding to the chaos already here. So, yeah, three months…"

He smiles again.

"Deckhand Jimmy dubbed it the 'Cataclysm' before all these angry Sea Lizards began shouting it as we nailed their bodies to their own ships."

The man suddenly begins stomping the deck as if trying to communicate with something.

"Isn't that right, Jimmy?"

From below you can barely hear the weak reply of man.

"Yes, sir!"

Shaking his head, the captain attempts to dislodge a thought from his mind. He tilts the wheel slightly to avoid some obstacle, and he appears to lose all concern with talking. Tok, however, does not seem satiated by the information given.

"Mon, ya crew and ya ship made it to land, obviously, how come da rest didn't?"

The captain does not look at him as he speaks, "That, troll, is because I do not come here to engage in the marvelous hospitalities everyone so offers, as you can plainly see from my tiny craft."

He pauses briefly to glance downward at the man of whom he speaks to.

"That and my crew of fifteen is now four, including myself. Therefore, my crew doesn't normally make it back, just the ship." His mouth opens, but he hesitates. "Well, that is half true. These three men below don't seem to take kindly to dying, so, they find it more fulfilling to load six cannons if they were ten men."

He stomps the deck again.

"Isn't that right, boys?"

In unison, a muffled set of fellows call back.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"That and I have no desire to bring any more lads into this hellish fray. The four of us have seen enough for an entire city."

Oddly, Nathanos grunts.

"Where have I been all this time? So many targets, and so much of me to go around!"

"Good sir, you have the mentality of a lunatic!" The captain shouts to the undead, "…thankfully, a solid mind isn't needed here!" He chuckles. "I sold my sanity for craze and instability months ago. The two for one deal seemed good at the time!"

Nathanos chuckles sinisterly and claps his hands, "And I thought I could never be a sailor. The colors were just not fitting on me, but with enough bloodshed, I can always wear my sporting red!"

"Amen, sir, amen!"

The two cackle simultaneously.

"Oye, lad, the two are of equal mind. We are so dead…" Brann speaks softly, yet loud enough for all to hear.

Nathanos turns to retort, but is interrupted.

Suddenly, a large explosion draws our attention from our rather digressed state. A few hundred yards away, the towering sails of an alliance ship are engulfed in a fireball of destruction. Masts buckle and snap as the gunpowder below ignites fully. The orcish Juggernaught turns from its now defeated enemy, and triumphantly floats away. Its front shifts in our direction, leaving behind the wreckage as its prize.

What a shame…

However, as I gawk depressingly at the raging inferno, a strange rattle stirs my attention from behind. Swiftly, I pivot upon my heels and gawk back at the barrels I lost focus of so long ago.

And, to my horror, I find my ignorance to be that which brings me greatest fear. For visible behind the last barrel closest to the ship are a set of glistening, moist orbs. They are set an equal distance apart, and to their sides are a set of long, leathery pieces of skin.

They are…eyes…

Ice fills my veins while muscles tense. The gleaming spheres are massive, and glare sinisterly in my direction. Shadows consume the vast of the creature's face, giving it the aspect of horror it must yearn for. It twitches suddenly, the folds of skin fluttering.

I make to move, but the beast has me in its sight. I make to run, but the attack position is already situated. I make to shout, but all sound, all capability of speech is lost in the blaring, menacing…eyes.

Then, as I expected, the monster pulls downwards, and swiftly lurches upwards. Stumbling, I prepare myself for a furious leap, a life-ending strike, but what comes…baffles…even me…

"HI!"

A high-pitched, squeaky voice booms from the beast as its large head appears. Teal, slimy flesh runs the lengths of its rather bulky skull, while the two folds of skin flap as hunting ears. The set of once horrifying eyes become a gentle pair of inquisitive optics.

Below them is a rather huge mouth, matching the size of my head easily, and it is stuffed with a tongue that easily fills the void of the gapping maw. As I gawk, it fidgets before leaping from its spot. Despite my fear, it does not aim to kill, but instead targets a location to my side.

Once landed, I get a good sight of the small creature. It is no taller than my hips, but is easily as wide as me. A long, fat tail whips wildly across the floor, stirring the spines across its back as well as rippling ts tiny little belly. It stamps heavily in a circle with its giant, elongated feet before extending its three-pronged, lanky arm in my direction.

"HI! My name is Stuupee!"

I am…not…sure…what…to do.

However, before I can react, it turns from me, bounces towards Brann and gleefully shouts again.

"HI! My name is Stuupee!"

The dwarf flinches as I did, falling into the mast. He does not say a word, but his expression tells a thousand tales. The tiny creature jiggles. The long mouth oscillates vertically, while its pudgy little body jiggles with delight. Tok spins as the screech catches his attention. Promptly, he twists, readies his staff, but promptly begins to chuckle. He places the bottom of the weapon back to the ground and shakes his head.

"An Oracle, mon? Never in my wildest dreams…" He can barely contain himself as he stares at the tiny figure. "A curious little leap'a from da frozen north all da way here."

"You know my PEOPLE!" For some, odd reason, he shouts the last word rather loudly. "They GOOD, they know the SHINEYS."

He makes as if he is going to speak again, but, instead, loses all focus and suddenly stares downward. His eyes lock firmly at something near the dwarf's feet. As I look at him, I quickly come to realize that he is starring at man's feet…

"Woah!" Nathanos shouts loudly, "Where did you find this thing, Worm?"

"Hey!" I reply quickly, "why did I find it?"

He rolls his eyes, "Because its head is huge. Therefore, it must be related to you."

Darion breaks his gaze from the ship rolling in our direction, and focuses upon the tiny beast as well. A smirk fills the void of his face and he cannot help but yell.

"The jerk makes a solid point, Hope. It does remind me of you."

Nathanos chuckles as the hopping fiend finds something more entertaining than Brann's feet. It hastily scurries to Darion and begins to poke him fiercely.

"SHINEY!" The tiny creature seems attracted to the death knight's pulsing armor. "I like shineys!"

Darion sighs as the beast prods him curiously. Gently, he puts the end of his axe into the creature's belly, and delicately gives the creature a ten-foot shoo. The tiny figure flies briefly before landing near me.

Once again, he faces me, but his eyes do not see to want to focus. One orb seems to want to search to the left while the other tries to lock on me. I am forced to look away form the beast to keep from laughin. Sadly, what I find ahead goes me no satisfaction. Floating in our direction, directly towards our very route, is the Juggernaught from before. If I didn't know any better, it is coming straight for us…

"You seem NICE. I like YOU!" I try to keep my focus, but his sudden need to shout simply bewilders me. Glancing back down, all interest of prior lost, I reconnect with the wriggling…thing.

Awkwardly, he throws his eyes down and gawks at my feet. He likes my shoes…

_You know we all like those old, crusty pads. _

Tok calls as the creature grows fully fixated upon my foot apparel.

"Stuupee, mon, wat are ya doin'here?"

The creature does not break his gaze, "My teacher TOLD me to get LOST." He turns from me and throws his arms in the air. "I did GOOD! I don't know WHERE I AM!"

The troll tries to keep from laughing.

"Mon, why do ya keep shout'n?"

"BECAUSE…I don't know. This is the way STUUPEE TALKS." He pauses briefly before screaming, "TALKS!"

Tok glances from the creature to each of the others on the ship. Each and every person gazes at the tiny stowaway as if he is some marvelous wonder. Each and every person stares…as if waiting for the next line…

"Mon…" Tok looks back at it, "how did ya get here, mon?"

Stuupee wildly throws his hands into the air before promptly lowering them to point at the troll. "I swam. SWAM. The water was cold. COLD. But I am best swimmer, BEST swimmer EVER."

He suddenly flinches and throws his head to the left. For a brief moment, his eyes peruse the side of the captain's door as if something is going to appear.

Then, with quivering, giant lips, the tiny lizard quietly says, "I have to be…with the Baddie so close. Always…so…close…"

Fear consumes his lengthy face, its gigantic lips forming an unpleasant frown. Ears fold gently backwards, while shifting eyes are partially shrouded by folding lids. He smacks his lips a few times before quietly repeating.

"So close…"

Tok taps the side of his cane with one long digit before a stern demeanor becomes his own. There is no more humor or comedy within the troll's appearance – seriousness all he radiates now.

The troll narrows his vision, but I lose sight of him as an irritable sensation grips my chest. Air draws slowly in and wheezes painfully out. No…it cannot be…

"Baddie? Wat ya be talk'n bout, little Stuupee, mon?"

Twitching violently, he makes to reply…but…the world pulsates. Edges of my vision skew wildly while my sight drifts upwards. However, it is what I seen in this current realm that truly clutches my heart and ravages my soul.

As the world grows green, fading to the horrible emerald horror, I catch sight…of a massive, wooden vessel careening headlong into our very path. A dozen cannons line ahead, yet give no warning. Waves part at the rippling curvature of its nose, and flee…in the wake of its path. It is what I saw coming earlier, yet so foolishly ignored…

But that is lost now…

All fades from sight, leaving me with the fantastical despair of this teal, yet slightly grayed world. Once again, the boundaries of my sight ripple respective to their side – horizontal or vertical. A weak haze fills the void of my sight, yet my vision is sufficient enough to partake in the vast watery nothingness that surrounds me.

Neck muscles tighten as I sweep the vast sea. Gentle, teal waves ripple across stretching tides. Cusps fold and collapse a thousand times in beautiful harmony. Waves wash up upon the shores of tiny isles that bear nothing but calm trees and green sands.

It is almost tranquil here…

"Welcome…" a raspy, crackling voice splinters my mind, "…we…have brought you here…"

Anxious eyes sweep in a frontal arc. Waves ripple gently, yet confirm no source of the raining voice. I jerk my head in a 180 degree span, but the whistling winds and pulsating, dark green fields of rolling beauty tell me no secrets…and no truths…

"We…know your plight…" A second rumbling thunder batters my being.

Nervously, I twist my form, praying I can find the home of these roaring anomalies, but they are nowhere in sight. And, to make the situation even more perturbing…I recognize these voices…

"We know…you…remember…us-s-s" Hissing letters break from the next specter's blaring call.

Air wheezes hurriedly through my swollen air pipe. Blood courses rapidly, no concern of the narrow tubes of which they flow. A pump rages, pounding an unbearable rhythm of agony within my chest. These voices…are the same as from earlier. These voices…are the ones that haunted me…from the Demon Soul…

"Yes-s-s!" Weak vibrations shake the tiny, earthen platform where I stand, "You could not forget!"

Once tranquil waves ripple as if riled. The vast of the fluid field churns gently, yet it is three spots in particular where the violent activity spurns greatest. Waves smash and crash angrily upon each other in these locations, forming tall, spiraling cusps that flicker the air.

Pustules of greenish fluid form, bursting as quickly as they form – the water appears as if boiling. At first, the three sources of chaos merely twist and turn. Yet the rumbling intensifies with every passing moment, and the bubbling builds with each fleeting second. Then, emerging slowly from the tides --the finale to this display-- are a trio of miniscule isles. Parting from the way is the sea itself, fearful of the specs of moistened sand and rock. They form a semi-circle around where I stand, one to my left, right, and one straight ahead.

Slivers of tall grass protrude in sloppy pockets across each plot. Fine sand glistens in the unseen light. Waves calm and the wind quells…but even with the relaxing elements, it is apparent that this is far from over…

"Bear witnes-s-s-s, mortal, the s-s-s-ummoners-s-s of your s-s-spirit!" The third voice hisses once more.

And as its echo screeches across all reaches of space, movement stirs upon the isle to the left of me. Darkness whips like wind upon the floating strip. Clouds of rolling shaded design spiral from the center from the land, forming interlocking spires that rise into the heavens.

A heavy, black mist radiates from the core of bending tendrils. It spreads from amidst the darkened strands, and wafts in spikes to the sides. Long, bent hooks appear, like singular claws of mighty arms. Moments later, the heavy mist expands and molds appendages in all directions. To the rear appears two vast sheets of quaking evil; wings of some great beast lost in the past. To the base coils a thick, strand that envelops the crown of the island – a tail. Finally, in a quick, iniquitous burst emerges atop the misshapen form an elongated ellipse. Centered perfectly upon this are a pair of bright, yellow embers…eyes…

And as the cloud of a monster gains stability, the next isle commences to achieve the same ends. Except, as the dark strands lift upwards and the mist grows outwards, what appears can only be described as a dozen snapping, vertically oscillating maws.

Finally, upon the isle to my right, builds the darkness, the heavy tenebrous fog, and the final shape of this creation's design. This last monster is a mere semi-sphere of dismay and horror, yet what is lacks in construction it makes up in the hundreds of glowing, amber orbs. A thousand eyes…

Each sphere, each tainted orb dims and fades to the syllabels that follow in suit, as if emitting the words from their very hues...

"Bask in this moment, little human, for it shall be your salvation!"

Instantly, the form before me, the monster of a thousand maws begins to vibrate -- each mouth clicking a different word, "We...come...now..." its dark outlined mouths quiver, "...with...a...warning..."

Now the first creature, one bearing the form of a winged serpent, lets slip a barrage of hearty hisses and sinister, slithery words, "We, the Dark Elders-s-s, have s-s-seen the future! You mortals-s-s are blind, your feuds-s-s ignorant of the true threat ris-s-sing! Even now as-s-s we s-s-speak the foolish orcis-s-sh mortals-s-s come to des-s-stroy you! "

A black, misty tongue slaps the bottom edges of its mouth.

" We have s-s-seen the tides-s-s of morrow! And we have found...only...darkness-s-s! Only s-s-sorrow! Only...chaos-s-s..."

As it finishes its last statement, the first Thousand-eyed beast takes over, its orb pulsating maliciously, "For with the sands of time comes the rise of the Shadow! With the cascading flow of each grain, a beast grows stronger! And with it, the end of the light as you know it comes!"

Silence sweeps over the dark beings. I stare at the last, quaking, shadowy form with intent, yet filled with anxiety and fear. Sweeping, my eyes follow to the central monster before locking upon the serpent. And as my optics move, as they shift, I can feel the evil within them. I can feel the iniquitous truths they spew, yet so willingly corrupt. It is with these feelings, that a surge of anguish, driven by rage, fuels my body and controls my very tongue.

"And why do you need me?" I glare at the winged reptile, "Do you plan to use me to prevent these sights, or do you simply wish to betray me into becoming the means to these dark ends?"

My eyes shift to central, multi-mawed monstrosity, "I have heard of what you want from me..."

"It is in those defiled words where the truth lies!" The Mouth Beast interjects, "Together we shall overcome the true threat! We shall defeat the Nightmare!"

I snort to this comment, only confidence flooding my soul.

"And what, give you rebirth? Give the power to conquer this planet?"

There is a brief silence before the Mouth Beast clicks his fanged maws and replies, "If it prevents our own mistakes from prevailing...then...yes..."

My jaw lowers, anger and disbelief all I know now, but as I make to retort this notion, a harsh, chilling wind slaps the edges of my mind. Silencing all motives, the cold slips past my body and glides behind my person. Yet, as it does...it brings with it a dark, inhuman roar that deafens the Dark Elders themselves and dwarves their once commanding presences...

"So deceptive, old friends! Always so deceptive." The voice radiates from all angles, from all elevations and all plains of existence, "We all know your lies, your true desires!"

Slowly...it gathers in strength behind me...

"That future is yours to hold, and yours to produce! This mortal is beyond false words and your fallacy of tales!" A dark, thundering chuckle congeals in full force rearwards, "Your victory will bring the dark fate..."

Pin-pricks prod the back of my neck, each stab beckoning me. Alluring, sinister hands coax the tethers of my existence, and despite my efforts...they call me into action. Pivoting upon my heels, I turn to see what yearns for me. Twisting my neck, I twist to discover what truly awaits. Rotating, I shift to the growing sparks of returning fear...

Then, as I turn one shoulder to the Dark Elders and one towards the call, I find what I knew awaited...

A small, yet steep rock mound extends from the quaking waters. Jagged peaks rise only a short distance, yet bear enough strength to hold the cascading shadows that roll down its sloping sides. Atop the pinnacle stands a figure bearing a quaking, quivering black cape. Shadowy tendrils slap the edges of the dirt, while a malicious mask hides the intent of a dark being. From here...I can feel his piercing stare. I can feel...his sinister smirk...

The Dark General.

But it is what stands below him, at the base of the cliff, that truly stirs the frost in my veins. A swirling vortex of black clouds orbits and surrounds like a dark crown around the isle. It spawns from a twisted, tenebrous figure, born of Stygian nightmares. The figure stands no taller than the General, yet spews forth an aura that gives him the presence of a giant. He bears the form of a man, yet quakes and quivers like the elements, like the shadows themselves.

Long, pitch-black legs give support to the dark man. Hunched, sturdy shoulders brace its confidence, its malicious demeanor and all strength. Arms angle for full view, while an vertically elongated, humanoid head bears a set of blaring-white eyes. Across its body runs pulsating ruins that grow darker than ever imagined before growing a weak gray shade. They oscillate in this fashion just as the rolling flames that gather upon its fleshless body rolls menacingly.

Each flickering fire travels up from its feet, hands or chin, gains fuel as it travels up each limb and skull before finally reaching its pinnacle. It is there where it burns momentarily before drifting into the air to dissipate. It is at the moment that the flames fade from a remarkably light-less hue to a gray color -- as if absorbing the light itself before fading into nothingness.

From here, I can feel the penetrating, mind-shattering gaze of the agonizing, bright eyes of the dark figure. Suddenly, it shifts and its boundaries quiver as the booming, overwhelming voice sends envy into thunder's heart.

"We meet at last, Vessel. Such an honor, indeed." No mouth moves or is even made visible as it speaks, "To think my destiny lies in your hands..."

"Your destiny lies back in your prison, Curse!" The Thousand-Eyed beast shouts angrily, "Go back to your nightmares, back to your previous wench..."

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF HER!" His voice intensifies, true rage pouring from his unseen lips, the once calm flames build as if oxygen was dumped into their paths. "Your filth has no dignity speaking of that creature, nor do you even have the place to mention her from you grotesque form! The fight that shall ensue will be between you and me, and oh, the pleasure, the satisfaction I shall draw from ripping each unctuous eye from your pleading, begging form..."

Suddenly, the fires built of black relax, and the eyes return to piercing my soul, "Unless, of course, the Vessel wishes to prevent that war from ever becoming reality..."

Before I can even dare touch that notion, the Maw Monster speaks, "Yes, mortal, we do digress. We have called you here for a civil end to what does not need to occur."

I turn, complete confusion consuming me. And as I move, the Serpent reads my every moment. "Do not grow bewildered, little one. Jus-s-st know that we drew your s-s-spirit here, to this-s-s plane, to this-s-s reality built by us-s-s alone and not of titanic des-s-sign. And that we drew you here to let you decide the end of the war now...if you s-s-see fit..."

I make to speak, but the Maw Monster continues, "Yes, this watery existence is not the dream you so slumber into, but another realm. Do not concern yourself so,...we have come to give you the opportunity to choose a god, to a choose a winner to this war."

The Eye Beast bellows, "To prevent your planet from churning, to prevent countless deaths, and to avoid what might end what has lasted the tests of time."

"To pick...the god to rule this-s-s world, to bring peace to this-s-s world." The tongue slaps the Serpent's jaws as it speaks, "To choose...Azeroth's-s-s las-s-st god."

Then, as the final word slips his lips, the water riles once more. Cusps gather and dissipate wildly before me, and before each of the god's. Narrows trips of sea bubble, boil and churn into chaos. Yet this frenzy lasts a few fleeting moments. Then, rising from the tides, comes a set of stone blocks that drift just above the water's edge.

Before me rests multiple large, paths built of disconnected stones, each one guiding me towards one of the three gods. I turn to find another route leading me back towards the creature build of the shadows. My eyes peruse the moist, slippery stones in dismay. Dry lips part, but no words follow. Cold hands grow warm, yet clammy to the touch. This is not real. This cannot possibly be. This has to be in my head...

"Choose now, mortal!" The Eye Beast blurts loudly, "follow the paths before you, fuse your soul with the one deserving so! Prevent the War!"

My body and eyes drift to his angled, rock path. "Yes, let your destiny guide me to triumph!"

Bemused fully, I cannot help but gaze to the next path. It is then, the Maw Monster bellows, "The choice is right, I shall rise again!"

Next, I navigate to the Serpent, and like the others he too speaks when I lock upon him, "Do not hes-s-sitate mortal!"

Finally, pivoting upon my heels, I find the being of darkness. As I stare at him, I feel the cold chill of his existence. As I gawk at him, my body rattles and the pressure of this world's fate gains full weight upon my shoulders. As I gaze at him, I want to cry, to collapse, to fall into nothingness and to be forgotten. As I look at him...I just want to be free of this fate...

But as I stare on, I know that is not possible. Destiny has found its way to me, and has given me the power to choose the fate of thousands. Someone, something, has found me fit of such a burden. I could collapse, I could falter and run, but...I must follow the words of Tok; I must follow the unsaid advice of Nathanos, of Darion. They would tell me what to do here and how to react. All of them would have the same answer...

And so do I.

I shake my head weakly before confidently rotating back forward. Before me stand the beings of dark's design. Before me stand the paths to guide them to complete victory, to set their reign in motion. Before me rests the choice to choose the fate of this world. And so...I shall.

My feet lock, my shoulders hunch back, and with all strength, all courage willing, I shout to them all.

"My choice is made!" I stomp my foot and tilt my chin upwards slightly, "And none of you are worthy of me. None."

Instantly, the paths descend in a fury of raging waters. Black clouds stir angrily, spewing darkness into the air. Glowing eyes flicker maliciously, bearing my name fully and whole-heartedly. Their reactions are exactly how I had imagined them. I only hope now, that the next step is not matching of my own visions.

"And so it has been written, just as it was predicted." Maw Monster speaks as if disappointed, "and so shall the War begin!"

Suddenly, a rush of wind slaps my being, dragging my clothing backwards.

"Come forth, minion, and answer your masters' calls!" The Eye Beast blurts as the gusts gather strength. "Churn the skies, fuel the winds, and surround the spans of existence with your might!"

The raging winds lash at my flesh and rock my very existence.

"Come now, Windlord, and bring the mortal to us-s-s!" Finally, the Serpent bellows.

"Ha! You bring your pet to play?" The Shadow Lord behind me shouts, "If that is how you wish to initiate our first skirmish, then I shall not disappoint!"

I turn, confused, rattled, and worried.

"Roll, angry tides! Spurn, endless fields of aquamarine!" He lifts his hands to the skies, his fingers curling inwards to the palms, "Master of the seas, controller of the churning tides, Lord of the raging waters, hear my call! Give these fools the fight they so desire!"

Around me, the once tranquil seas rally to some unseen force. Crashing waves slam into all areas of land, and fold upon themselves with full fury. And as the water's rage and the winds thrash, the edges of my reality flicker. Gray slowly fills in the borders, while teal fades from all aspects of my vision.

But as I leave this dream, I leave the moment that could have been my salvation...the Eye Beast calls back to me...last...time...

"Fear now, mortal, the might of the Old Gods! Fear now, the fury of the planet! Fear now...the War of the Last God!"

A bright flash fills the void of all space and time. And as it fades, I feel a set of heavy, moist lids break, revealing a mesh of black and gray -- a smeared mess of perfect beauty. And as I stare, all sound returns and with it...comes the cries of horror, of anguish, and of fear. And as I listen...the reality of what just happened sinks in...

"MON! GET UP, MON!" I feel a hand grasp my shirt, and I find myself sitting upright. It is then, I take in Tok, "Mon, what just happened?"

I cannot help but ignore him as the sightings around me gain my full attention. To my sides stand the companions I know so well, and despite my joy to see them still intact, I know the situation is far from fortuitous. Standing near the mast is Brann, a gun braced in his arms, but lost to the event before him.

Near the stairs rest a sturdy Nathanos and a determined Darion, each one embracing the situation as their stubborn heroism allows. Slowly, I peruse the deck, finding a Captain nervously screaming orders to those around him, his mouth breaking to the limits his body allows. Near him stand a pair of bewildered, bemused rulers caught in the tidings of something unimaginable. Finally, at the front of the ship stand a trio of men, no fear in any of their souls, yet amazement their final expression.

But what awaits ahead...deserves nothing less...

All eyes rest upon a spiraling vortex of wind, splintered wood and gusty waters. Growing from the seas, spanning a good three ship's lengths across, is a rotating mess only describable as a windy screw. And amidst its center rests a vertically tilted vessel. Once grand, the Juggarnaught's rear is drawn towards the heavens, while its nose barely treads the skin of the waters.

Decks, cannons, bows, masts, and all are torn from the mighty vessel. Crewmen are sucked into the spiraling abyss before being ejected like projectiles. Ever-so-slightly, the ship spins with the current of the winds, and lifts upwards with each passing moment. But I lose interest to the insignificant fly caught, but focus on that which is the trap.

Spiraling gusts form threads upon the cylinder like construct, giving the funnel the appearance of a spinning screw. This vortex rises into sky a great distance, before coming to a churning heart of gaseous matter. There, lightning dances across the surface and plays within the cavity. Sparks of amber flash across all vasts of what can only be described as a windy torso of something greater to come...

And if my words are heard, an explosion of wind, clouds, and lightning bursts from one side of the central cloud. An elongated tendril breaks at the middle, allowing for the airy mass to bend. Like the base, this portion spins outwards; spiny, jagged threads of air traveling the vasts of this arm. Finally, forming from the end of the horizontal appendage is a set of malformed, cloudy claws. They roll inward, one by one, before the second limb bursts from the lumbering behemoth.

A frenzy of sparking lightning bounces across all spans of the clouds before directing towards the pinnacle of the heart. Then, from a mighty concoction of flashes, gusts, and rumbling thunder, a giant, windy ellipse forms. Strands of airy matter flicker from the quaking, shapeless head. At last, with a finale of bursting flashes, calling thunder, and whipping winds, a set of vertically elongated, amber sparks are drawn into existence. A set of eyes...for a being so deserving...

"AT LAST!" A voice built of sparking electricity and cackling thunder shatters the voids of time and space, "Al'Akir the Windlord has returned!"

The winds clash against the mind, while his words spark fear across the vast of my flesh. The monster's gaze squares firmly upon the ship, and focus...upon me. And, as he stares, the clouds from above descend as if called, forming a sheet of rotating gases that hide the upper portion of his body from sight; hide all, but the burning, amber...eyes...

"Mon!" Drawing me back down is the call of the troll, "Tell me wat happened! NOW!"

My eyes break from the spiraling wind god, and divert to the troll. Dismay and deep concern lather the vast of his expression. At first, my lips and mind are unable to procure anything of us, but with a forceful shake, the troll stirs my body into action.

"They...they made me choose." Lips quiver with every word, "And I couldn't pick...I knew I couldn't. I am sorry..."

"Sorry?" Joy and concern oddly congeal upon his face, "Mon, ya have no idea wat ya just did!"

His eyes divert to the side of the ship, "Ya saved us time, mon! Now...now...I gotta meditate. I need ta tell da Druid of wat has happened!"

He makes to stand, but promptly returns his attention to me, "Whateva ya do, mon, do not let dem get ya!"

Swiftly, he stands, rushes to the captain's quarters and throws the doors open. The troll turns to the windy concoction of might before twisting back to me. There, he throws me a nod and makes to enter...but...no...?

"Tok!" His response is a lack of movement, "Where are you going?"

A smirk forms upon his face, "I gonna go tell da Druid mon dat dey gotta get ready for us! Dey gotta get prepared for our arrival!" He briefly glances back to the Windlord, "If, of course, we don't die, mon."

Before I can ask another question, the troll enters the room and exits our sight and mind. Well, once again, you were helpful in making sure I am not confused. Not that I really need him to tell me what is happening. The Elders told me all I needed to know...

_You really need to focus. You do not know how terrible of a time this is to wander._

The boat suddenly quakes, and I find myself directed upon the elevated figure before us. His form has not altered, say for the constantly interchanging gusts that roll across his form. The vessel within, however, seems to have gathered within his cavity and is torn asunder within the vasts of the chaotic core.

As I stare...a scared voice rolls from my side.

"Tag...I am it." I turn to find a quivering, shivering, tiny Stuupee behind the barrels of his first discovery. He hides with his hands locked upon one of the wooden items. His eyes aim for something behind before they divert briefly to me. His quaking lips break, "The Baddie has finally caught me..."

Before I can move, the voice built of a thousand crashing waves blares from behind.

"Al'Akir, you fool! Your betrayal shall not go unpunished!" Instantly, I am forced to turn.

My heart sinks as a second towering monstrosity fills my sight. Rising as tall as the first, this being is similar in appearance, yet rather unique. Unlike the first, this one bears a more humanoid appearance. A trail of water gathers as legs from the flowing fluid. Traveling up and down the base are liquids that seem to move like rivers, tides alternating as currents through the span of the legs. This foundation fades to a thick, quaking core of bubbling waters and molds into rolling tides of aquamarine and jade. These same waters roll to a set of human-like arms and end at inter-webbed fingers of gargantuan proportions.

Finally, the teal waters roll to an oscillating, instable head. A rather well-defined skull bears many humanoid characteristics, yet its misshapen appearance is constantly changing. The only firm constant of this equation are the dark gray, beaming set of sparks that makes for its eyes. His gaze, however, is firmly upon the Windlord.

And it is with his appearance, and with his gaze, that the stands to the side of our existence and readies for his assault against the other.

"The end comes, Al'Akir! For the tides and seas have risen. FOR NEPTULON, THE WATERLORD, HAS BEEN UNLEASHED!"

His voice booms, rolling across the vast of this universe. His voice booms, leaving only the sounds of their very existence to bring us comfort.

And here we stand, amidst the field plotted for us. Here we stand, between two massive beings, nothing but insects in their grand paths. Here we stand, unprepared for what comes, and fearful of what shall ensue. Here we stand...in the center of the first conflict of an unseen war. Here we stand...part of a war where we do not belong...

But that means little. The battle lines have been drawn, and we are in the middle.

So it begins.


	22. Chapter 20: A Pirate

**Hello everyone,**

**For those you have not yet noticed, I changed my name to Kamagua. Why? Well, the other one got old. On another note, once again, I am here to ask of you any comments...reviews...or whatever to know how I am doing. It is getting rather disheartening to post and, well, nada. As many hits that I am getting, it is either people are liking it, or...it is a silent concoction of junk.**

**I just want to know whether or not I want to invest any more time into this...**

**Any who, enjoy this chapter -- I reposted due to numerous tiny edits and a complete restructuring of the end passages.**

**Yes, it is even longer!**

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_**"I never solely do what you want of me, King. I simply do what was necessary for my people. What is needed by the ones I care for most."**_

_**Lord Fordragon as he departed to Northrend.**_

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Around us is the churning epicenter of a wild storm. The once mild state of stability has entered a full collapse into entropy. Darkness rolls in all around us as wild winds stir murky waters into the sky. Rain forces the eyes to shield themselves, while it assaults the body. Gray clouds roll from the heavens, dulling all sense of sight and ravaging all sanity.

We are in the heart of our very own maelstrom…

Whirlwinds whip the fringes of our beings, clinging menacingly to our flesh, hoping to toss us to the tormenting waves. Invisible blades slash in criss-crossing arcs, throwing sheets of probing and pricking mist at our faces. Above rests a field of endless chaos, bursts of amber streaking across the skies; fleeting pockets of light blare before leaving behind a stronger sense of darkness.

It is the fury of the skies, the might of the vast unseen, and the power…of the Windlord. And as his strength folds in upon us, his booming call, built of a thousand immense static charges and as loud as a thousand cannons firing in unison, is unleashed…

"Neptulon, you have abandoned your true masters!" My eyes drift to the gigantic funnel, "The Dark Elders will have no pity nor mercy upon you whence we are through!"

Suddenly, the front of the vessel jerks violently. I fall hard; the slippery deck no place for a staggering fool. Pounding pockets of pain spread from the side of my skull, the source of the impact spot. Alas, there is no time for such conveniences such as a mild concussion.

And it is here, as I pull myself from the rocking deck, that I get full glimpse of the tower constructed of water's might. It is from the hundred-foot beast that the curling, cascading barrages of navy blue come. They smash upon the flanks of the vessel, throwing the front and rear side to side – uncontrollable twists that send the fools upon this ship skidding across the deck.

The waves sweep rapidly, colliding into the vessel, and just as quickly fading back to the depths to return moments later. With each collision, the world seems to tilt and quake. With each collision, a continuous roar deafens all, and fades our voices into the nothingness to match our own qualities…

But all pales in comparison to the tidal wave of rumbles and gargling demise that rains from the elemental as it speaks…

"Al'Akir, I did not abandon them, I turned to that which they created. To that which freed you. It was he that released you from your prison!"

I feel a fierce force smack the ship, and a moment later I find myself sliding across the deck, my feet leading. It feels as if the entire craft is rolling in a counter-clockwise fashion, heading to a capsized fate. However, as the vessel becomes almost vertical on its side, and before I begin to free-fall, a clash of winds sends the vessel rocking back in the opposite direction.

Once again, the wooden base slams into my body, this time throwing me into the air and towards the edge of the ship facing the Waterlord. Winds envelop the vast of my person, coating me in fine layer of water and icy chill. Sadly, the feeling dulls as I smack the deck and skid uncontrollably towards a gap in the railing.

I am moving fast. Pain courses the lengths of my person. Agony clutches my soul and saps my strength. But my mind knows that which awaits me off the vessel is beyond comparison to my trifling pangs. My arm feels the energy of a pumping heart, whipping to the side. Five energized fingers wrap the lengths of a unctuous, wooden rod. Gripping fast, the small digits become a grapple to my still moving body.

And though they have locked firmly, it is not enough to avoid the inevitable…

In a flash, I find my body thrown to the side before hastily sent whipping downwards. It takes but a moment for me to depart the ship and return to its side…

_PHWACK_

Wet wood greets me hospitability, crushing the side of my skull and smacking the vast of my chest. The fibers of my latched arm tighten to their fullest. A slick surface tests my strength and my will. A slippery hand drives the fury of my fear and dulls all physical pain.

Slivers of water shoot across my vision, some driving into my unsealed optics. They send shivers of weak discomfort through me, but I ignore them, faceting upon my struggling fingers.

I attempt to throw my other arm, but there is no railing to reach. It slaps against the deck, presses against the wood, and depressingly slides off. A sense of anxiety begins to sink in. Ok, relax Hope. It is nothing too terrible. You are just dangling off the edge of a rocking ship amidst the battle of the Elemental lords. Nothing you haven't faced before…

_You lie! You cannot compare this to your tales! You are but an insect to these guys! You gonna die!_

A disheartening chill feeds into my blood – each pump intensifying its grasp. That wasn't the best thing to say. Ignore him, he is a jerk. Focus, pull yourself up…

With all my strength, I throw my free hand upon the other, lock the muscles within them, and…I…begin…to…pull! Tendons are tried. Energy is burnt rapidly. Inches of distance between me and the deck are cut quickly. Come on, Hope! Pull, you sissy, pull!

_You can do it! You have the power!_

Second after second, I tap into my core. Second after second, I begin to rise. Second after second, I find the edge of the deck appear in my vision. Second after second, I come closer to victory! Second after second…

"Vengeance shall be your demise, Neptulon!" Wind's fury booms as my nose becomes parallel to the ship's edge, "I will not see Enluzen reborn! I will not let your false prophet freed!"

There is a slight pause…

"Be quelled, ruler of the seas!"

Uncontrollably, I find my eyes navigating upwards. As my optics align upon the core of the windy devil, a burst of murky dark clouds rips from the Windlord's torso. Ejecting from the spiraling mess is a massive, wooden construct. Like a rocket it soars across the skies and soars over my head.

I watch as it is torn apart midair – the mere force tearing the once mighty ship to pieces. Chunks of wood rain from the vessel, but fade into nothingness as the bulk of the frame collides into the left shoulder of the Waterlord.

A deep bellow rains from the mighty being of water, while the ship slices clear through and dislodges the entire limb. It falls from the torso of the beast, descends to the seas below, and crashes with a grand splash. A wave ripples from the impact, rolls towards our ship, and gently collides into us.

Then, as if crush my will and my motivation, the boat tilts towards the windlord just slightly, before fiercely falling back in my direction. Instantly, I find my arms snapping and feel all power sapped. A horrific surge of pain courses through my attached arm as it is cracked like a rubber band.

All feeling fades from the linked limb, and my other hand flops uselessly to the side. I make to lift once again, but it is no use. There is no strength left in me for a second attempt. There is only the frost of the crashing waves around me and the chill of the icy waters. There is only the lost moment and the slowly failing fingers…

I watch my hand slowly break from the rod. I make to shout, but the tides mute me. I make to howler, but the winds dwarf my cries. The elements will give me no reprieve, no sanctuary, no mercy…

Unwilling to watch any longer, I simply close my eyes and wait for the inevitable. My fingers slip a bit more. Closer I draw to the aquamarine depths. Slipping further. Ever closer. Relax, Hope, maybe the gods' won't be able to find you within the churning abyss…

Maybe…this was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe…

My fingers pass the edges of the pole, slip fast and I feel weightless. Then, to my dismay and horror, a sharp pinch shoots through fingers. It is as if a set of small nails has pierced through my pinky and palm!

Instantly, I let my eyes open. Before me is the railing, my hand, and a tiny, orange figure wrapped firmly around both. Her tiny head is tilted sideways, while her gaping maw has my fingers snagged between it and the pole. Squeals!

_You owe her again!_

"Squeals!" My voice is a mere breeze against the hurricane, "Hold tight! If we get out of this…" a wave crashes against my back, "…the belly rub of a century is due!"

A weak vibration trickles from the sides of my hand before rolling down my forearm. I cannot see it, but I am certain it is her natural shake.

_You really need to try and use her little delay given…more appropriately_…

Yes, stop wandering, Hope! Pull yourself up! Lets get back on this ship! With all my strength able, I jerk at the railing. An immense shock of burning pain explodes from where her tiny teeth are locked. It grows with each extra unit of energy exerted, and soon becomes nearly unbearable.

There…is just no way…

Then, like a screeching angel, a second voice calls to me…

"ME SAVE YOU! ME SAVE BRINGER OF BELLY RUBS!"

Appearing over the edge is none other than Stuupee. He fidgets at the side of the ship – doing so with reckless movements. However, as I watch him, I notice that he is unaffected by the rocking ship and slashing, watery winds. Crazy little creature, you might be my savor after all!

Without hesitating, I throw my free arm upwards, extend my fingers towards the beast and wait for his grip. Oddly, he looks down at my arm, tilts his head forward and lets his mouth sunder. With all haste, he leans further, opens his mouth fully, and reaches for my arm. He isn't going to…

A sickening slap sticks to all edges of my forearm. Moisture gathers upon my hand while heat radiates across all the flesh. Suction forms a firm barrier upon my arm, yet I cannot help feel a bit disgusted by where my hand is.

_You got your arm ated!_

Surprisingly, though, I find a fierce force jerk at my arm, and I slowly find myself drifting upwards. Well I'll be. The little monster is actually doing it! Yes, he had to devour part of my body, but heck, I'll take what I can get!

Slowly, carefully, I begin to draw towards the deck. Creeping upwards, determination feeds my spirit. Crawling to the edge once again, hope returns to a once demoralized man. For a second time, my nose draws to the wooden base, and…

I feel a penetrating chill assault my form. My jaw slacks, while my dismayed eyes lock upon a disturbing sight that breaks all prior focus. A disconcerting view destroys all motivation. A vision…of chaos…

The sails of our ship whips wildly. Sparks of lightning streak the air above the vessel. Clouds roll and spiral as they descend. Four, elongated funnels grow from a grayish epicenter. Above us, lowering quickly, is the gargantuan claw of the windlord…

And with it booms his voice…

"The child is mine!"

It draws nearer. Staring into what is its palm is like glaring into the heart of a raging thunderstorm. The thick, shapeless fingers ripple, given form only to strike at us. Alas, he comes for not us…but for one man. He comes…for me…

"Hope!" A familiar, dulled voice shakes my mind. "About time!"

Diverting from the windstorm, I catch sight of a heavy, black boot precisely as a firm jerk finds me rising into the skies. But it is not of shaking, nor quaking, but from something else. My shirt tightens across my chest, and my feet dangle at the side of the deck. It is now that I know it is from our own accord, and not the element's doing.

"Hope, I thought you were swimming with the fish!" Darion's voice calms me again, "welcome back, little man!"

I find my feet locking firmly upon the wooden frame, and I look upon the Death Knight's almost joyous face. The blue flames flicker from his eyes, streaking to the whipping winds. Strands of hair lick the skies, and drag in unorganized fashions as a strong force blows upon them.

The Windlord…

Loudly, I shout back to him, "Darion! Behind you!"

Instantly, the Knight takes a few steps back, pulls me with him, and twists rearwards. His grip fades as he gazes upon the spiraling cloud that is only yards away. The sails now bend and stir violently, the storm almost upon us. The frame of the ship screeches, the heavens almost ours to behold

"Fool!" The waterlord finally retorts, "You are far from victory!"

Erupting at the Windlord's side of the ships is a rising sheet of water. It lifts upwards, reaching the clouds in seconds – a forceful fountain explosion. Like a blade, the fluid rises and slices through the cloud. Severed, the hand loses all focus and intention, yet still remains. It hovers upon the skies, twisting and bending, searching for its old master.

But the storm is lost…to the tidal wave of commotion that stirs from behind…

"Feel the rage of the waters!"

The ship shakes violently as I turn. The water lord careens towards the ship, its base a dozen yards way. Yet, as the foundation of his existence comes to us, it slows. However, where he is lacking in movement below, it is replaced in the torso above.

Neptulon twists his grand person, the lacking portion of his body leading. Swiftly, he locks in place before fiercely twisting the armless shoulder back forward.

"Embrace…the might of the endless tides!"

A grand explosion of aquamarine terror erupts from the accelerating socket. Drops of human-sized water rain from the monster as a funnel-like arm is shot back into existence. Leading the insanely speedy, newly formed limb, is a curled fist of furious fluids.

And, with all the strength the beast contains, he slams his arm into the head of the Windlord. The winds are sent fleeing, the force shattering the sky's fury. The entire Windlord jerks, his body absorbing the blow as would any mere mortal. Yet, he recoils quickly, sending his own counterattack of merciless winds.

His arm shoots over his head, and slices back downwards. As it nears the Waterlord, a fury of slashing winds lashes outwards, cutting spigots of sundered navy blue in all directions.

"Captain!" Varian's voice is barely noticeable as the two elemental lords battle above us, "GET US OUT OF HERE!"

I cannot help but stare as the waterlord swings a second time. I cannot help but gawk as a second furious pocket of air is unleashed. Helplessly, I watch as insignificantly as I feel. This battle, this war…is not meant for us…and as the skirmish rages, it is apparent…we are lost amidst a battle beyond our reckoning…

"And how do you plan I do that, how? I don't have rocket boosters or anything!"

"Paddle for all I care, just stir this ship…" he is interrupted as a rush of air collides with the ship…"we are going to get torn to pieces!"

"Ya think?!"

And as the two shout, I catch glimpse a slight anomaly amongst this already remarkable splendor of chaos. The shattered cloud, the one sliced by the seas, drifts aimlessly. It moves as if hunting -- searches as if looking for a purpose. As it oscillates, it lowers towards the ship. It descends…towards the central mast…

"How about this, King," the captain secretes sarcasm with every word, "I will point forward like so. And loudly proclaim, 'Forward, ho!'"

Exactly as the last words radiate from his lips, the gaseous puff seems to discover its purpose -- its true destiny. Swiftly, it lowers, locks behind the main sail…and collides against the rocking sheet. The cloth bows forward, and…

I am lifted off my feet, and sent flying backwards. Yet again, I find the ship greeting my person angrily. The wood howlers gently as my back smacks against the captain's quarters. From my side, I hear a louder thud of what I can only imagine to be Darion.

A second passes, and I fall to my rump. Darion follows in suit, and we both find ourselves stuck in our current positions. The ship bounces and quakes. The sails stretch to their limits. Winds press against our bodies, locking us where we sit. We are moving fast. Really fast.

_You said it!_

"Stuupee HATES fast!" I can barely see a blue blob locked upon the stairs. In his hands rest a tiny ball of curled orange. Good, she is safe.

As best as I can, I tilt my head away from her and towards Darion. Just beyond him, I can make out Nathanos near the opposite railings, with a tiny dwarf in his lap. Ha, I bet he is loving that.

Turning from him, I catch sight of a two tangled around the front railing – Kowl and the old man. However, as my eyes bear through the normally sealed lids, I come to realize there is no Saylem. He is not in sight. Could it be true? Are we finally rid of him?

Sadly, as my thoughts drift from within, I voice radiates from Nathanos' side.

"Get off me, you rotted idiot!" Once again, the wonderous voice of Saylem finds its way to us.

"Boy, when…this…is…over," Nathanos tries to speak through wind that slaps his face. "You…will…suffer…"

At that, the ships barrels onwards. The vessel bounces across rolling waves, shoots past small isles and rides through interlocked ships. My stomach churns, yet the average sense of nausea is not there. This isn't so bad…maybe…

Sadly, as I grow used to the pace, the sail's arch lessens, and the pressure found upon my front dulls. Seconds pass, and I find myself capable of moving once again. Hastily, I pull myself forward and jump to my feet. I must see what is happening, and this is no place for such a curious endeavor!

Throwing myself to the right, I lunch for the stairs, catapults up the steps, and come to the upper deck in seconds. Once there, I find both kings rising to their feet, while a strong Captain holds to a wooden wheel. Everyone seems able.

"You idiot!" A distant roar of an enrage waterlord beckons, signifying the full intent of their rage, "You let them get away!"

Alas, my eyes break from my companions. In the distance, I catch sight of the two, towering behemoths. Now, they are smaller forms of what they once were; yet the illusion of their insignificance is unfelt.

The two break from past aggressions and relocate their determination. Almost as if racing, the two shift side to shift and roll across the limitless waters. And as they move, Neptulon tilts forward, reaches into the water, and disconcertingly scoops a small, troll destroyer from the tides.

Winding backwards, the mighty lord shifts the tiny ship before letting it fly forward. It takes to the air, the mere ball to the Waterlord's merciless pitch. Flipping end over end, it careens in our direction, throwing helpless crew from its belly as it moves.

And as it arches back downwards, I find my fear growing, my heat racing, and my lips breaking…

"Incoming!"

The Captain makes to pivot, but it is too late. The side of his face shifts in position as the once sleek Horde craft falls from the air, slams into the water, and shatters into a dozen pieces. The legs and rudder snap from the main frame, while it skips across the water's edge like a smooth pebble.

Just barely does the vast of the ship leap to our side before skipping for a second time. Finally, as it descends again, it rams into a small mound of dirt and explodes upon contact – sending spikes of shattered wood every direction.

"What in the world?" Greymane hollers as the tossed ship passes our side, "Did that hulking lunatic just hurl a ship at us?"

As if to answer his question, a low rumbling fills the air before a large object shoots across my vision and smashes into the waters behind us. This time, however, the ship sinks deep, sending large waves radiating from its impact zone. Fortunately for us, it is far out of reach.

Unfortunately for us…I find two more objects filling my sight…

In a flash, one descends, smacks the water, bounces, one, twice, three times before skidding to a stop. The second misses the tides completely, its frame bursting as it lands headlong into another tiny island.

I make to see the progress of the two giant's, and my heart sinks into my stomach. Enormous once again, the two barrel unnaturally onward. Gaining fast, the Waterlord continues to reach to the waters, grabs another unlucky ship, but stops short as he rises…

Turning from the chase, the overconfident Windlord sucks two vessels into his gullet. Promptly, he releases them like rockets -- not at us, but at the Waterlord. At the short distance between them, the ships tear Neptulon apart easily.

But the sheer strength of the Aquamarine giant is unquestionable. Though his limbs are ripped from his frame, and his torso is severed, he is able to stay upright. Tendrils of wave gather across his form, reconnecting that which is lost in mere moments. And from his base…a rippling wave of utter ferocity is felt…

"I GROW TIRED OF THIS, AL'AKIR!" The blue field around him lashes at the Windlord's base, "LET THE TIDES CONSUME YOU!"

The water boils. The seas churn. The abyss rumbles. And from it, is unleashed a might unlike anything ever felt before. Rolling waves gather ominously. Crashing tides strike at the foundation of isles and at the end of the Windlord.

And it is then, lifting from the depths of endless seas, that Neptulon's wrath is let loose…

Rising from behind the fool of an Elemental, is a wall of dark blue that matches his height easily. The Windlord does not turn, nor does he have time able to. Curling over his shapeless form, the murky, blue onslaught makes for its strike.

Foam gathers upon the bent, rolling tip of the wave. Droplets of water dance from all edges of the barrier – salivating hunger endlessly. And as it comes to its massive height, Al'Akir discovers too late his fate.

Crashing downwards, the might of Neptulon washes over his foe. Waves rip at the spiraling vortex. His once grand existence enveloped. The winds lash at the waters, but the dense, unyielding fury vanquishes any futile attempt at victory.

Then, as quickly as it came, the tides recede, leaving behind a weakened, weary elemental in its wake. Taking advantage of this moment, Neptulon throws his arm in an uppercut fashion, ramming his jagged fist straight through the core of his enemy.

As he holds him, all strength sapped, the Waterlord cackles triumphantly,

"This is my domain, Al'Akir! You stood no chance."

Dissipating with the very sounds of Neptulon's voice, the windy, winding vortex bursts, turning to a mere wall of tattered, retreating clouds. Recoiling back to his proper, confident stance, the Waterlord continues to chuckle. He watches all the fragments of his once mighty equivalent drift back to the heavens.

"Weakling…" Neptulon barks egotistically.

But where the Waterlord finds his victory, a new source of strength pulsates from the sky-wall above. At first, a weak volley of sparks dance across the skies, the initial signal of the vengeance. Next, the clouds darken, the second sign of the Windlord's continued play in this event…

Finally, shooting downwards from the skies, is a large, powerful, twisting vortex. It collides violently with the waters, turning the gray and black mesh into a teal version of its original self. Shortly after, another tornado emerges. It collides with the waves, and begins sweeping the surface of the water with no direction or focus apparent.

After it, more and more appear…Al'Akir's might…

"You coward!" Neptulon's once confident tone faded to irritated concern, "Such actions will not best me, Al'Akir!"

With those words, the great Lord spins in his watery bastion, hunches his shapeless shoulders forward, and with the strength of a thousand tidal waves, lurches forward. Like a siege engine grinding its gears, the mighty monstrosity moves slowly at first, but as time progresses, his acceleration is unmatched.

Vortex's and swirling light-green funnels sweep in crossing patterns, yet do nothing to the Elemental. His shapeless mass oscillates from the fury of the winds. His indefinite form quakes with uncertain rage. All of Neptulon is naught in definition. All...but his utter determination, his pure desire, and relentless yearning...for one...lone...man...

"Sweet mother of a bastard orc, what did you do to him, boy?" My eyes shift in their sockets as the captain shouts, "I have spent countless hours calling that ninny ridiculous names, yet you simply step into his domain, and now he comes with his full self to kill you!"

A swift tug at the wheel, and a sharp turn distracts me briefly. Moments later the captain throws us back in the opposite direction, and appearing in the side of my vision is a set of towering sea-crafts. Moving fast still, we shoot by a half-a-dozen vessels as the captain tries to get a stable position to continue an almost certain rant.

"These babies once brought me fear!" He quickly navigates through an obviously large pack of warring ships, "Now they seem safer than what is chasing us!"

He begins to cackle, "Boy, you bring me...SWEET NEPTULON AL'MIGHTY!"

Naturally, his cry diverts my attention backwards, but to my dismay, the still assaulting Lord is a great deal away; though he still gains on us rapidly. It is now, as a deep, penetrating roar rattles my mind, that I come to realize what he beckons to is subtle amongst his words. Before I can even turn, a horrific concoction of snapping wood, screeching metal, and roaring winds sends shivers down my spine. Whipping past my sight, is a blade of broken wood -- a part of a once mighty whole.

Around me stirs a fierce windstorm; my clothing, hair, and anything else not firmly layered is whipped into frenzy. Water slashes in twisting arcs. The sound of a roaring steam engine booms as if feet away, yet obviously is nowhere to be found. Finally, as the air around me drives my eyes to shutting and my body to shaking, I turn to find what I knew was waiting.

Ripping through a mighty alliance battleship is the might of Al'Akir. A grand vortex slices through the deck, tearing chunks of wood from the finely crafted vessel. In seconds, the once grand symbol of strength is butchered completely, leaving behind two halves of the ship. From the wake of destruction, the spiraling funnel barrels towards us, yet is lacking in its haste. Just barely, as thrashing winds whip all around, the funnel drifts behind our ship, avoiding our demise. I take a deep breath, release it, and gaze back forwards. Ahead of us are only a few ships, and a set of scattered isles, and the sea...

The captain exhales deeply, as if he had been holding his breath.

"Well, I have had enough of this." He talks smoothly, yet nervously, "Where is that stupid goblin? I am dropping you off with that green menace and then I am gone!"

"Gone?" King Wrynn calls from our side, "Where do you think you are heading to, and who is this 'goblin' you speak of?"

"My contact, partner in crime, my assistant if you will!"

"Captain, your constant circles irritate me!" Greymane shouts angrily, forcing me to turn. "Who is this fool you speak of? Tell me, immediately, or I shall rip your arms off!"

Forcefully, the Captain jerks the wheel, avoiding a small, night elf craft.

"The Goblin's name is of no importance! Just know, it has always been that I get the goods, he takes the goods, sells the goods, and we make a hefty profit!"

"Profit?!" Greymane roars as he grips the railing, "Gilneas captains do not make profits! They shoot, kill, and come home to a mediocre salary! I doubt Wrynn here pays anything different!"

"The king makes a point." Wrynn shakes his head at Greymane with mild disgust before turning to Cappy, "Captain, Are you trying to tell me..." Wrynn sounds surprised.

"Of course, good King, it took you this long to discover this?" The Captain chuckles, "I am a smuggler! A pirate, all things of pure evil that works against your smooth systems!"

Despite the raging tides, the crashing waves, and the howling winds, a strange silence clenches the ship. I am not sure this was the best of times to regal us with his true nature in this whole situation, but...I guess somewhere deep down inside, I knew he was a bit on the Nathanos side to be a good, proud man. Not that it really matters. As long as he keeps us from becoming dead, I am perfectly fine with whatever course he takes. There are much bigger problems to worry about now...

Wrynn, though, seems rather situated on the subject...

"A pirate? PIRATE?" Greymane lurches forward, stopped only by Wrynn, "No good garbage, I'll tear you into tiny pieces and feed you to that blue, fat rat!"

From behind, you can barely hear a weak, saddened voice of Stuupee, "People taste funny, Stuupee doesn't want to eat that..."

Ignoring him, Wrynn speaks,

"Captain, you do know the punishment you will be facing, correct?" He narrows his vision. "Because we both know you are not getting away with this ship...not with Lord Blue chasing this fine craft..."

Raising his arm, the Captain goes for a rebuttal, but it would seem the sheer face of logic has trumped him. He makes a few commanding movements with his still swift craft before rubbing his chin. Rather calmly, he rolls the cigar across his lips. Oddly he glances down to it, bites the end and smirks.

"Reasoning makes me want to vomit..." he flicks the cigar upwards before letting it fall down, slapping a small, gold ring on his finger, "...but I guess that was inevitable. I couldn't be free forever."

Suddenly, the captain flinches. He diverts from gawking at his rolled tool, squints at something in the distance, and then finally leans forward. The odd man braces his mesh of death between his teeth, flicks it with his tongue, and pulls himself to his wheel as if trying to get a better view. In a fit of quasi-hysteria, he jerks backwards, hurls an extended finger forward, and begins to laugh.

"My word, there he is!"

I break from him, throwing my gaze to the horizon. As I attempt to find whatever he saw, a loud rumbling begins to churn from behind. The boot seems to rock slightly, and the waves seem to be agitated more so with each passing second. It is as if a the water is warning us...

_You fool!_

"Only a few minutes now! Haha! Then we can get out of this..."

Joy fills the captain's heart. Excitement stirs within each of his movements. From his commotion and perturbing state, one cannot help but grow a bit disillusioned as well. My body seems fill with glee, and, for a brief, fleeting moment a smile cracks on my face. Alas, all sense of happiness, all forms of motivation, fades as a massive, hulking object falls from the heavens, crashing into the tides just to the right of our direct course. Wood wails, while crewmen cry aloud. Waves burst violently from the collision between the huge, alliance craft and the vast tides.

Rising from the water, its nose leading into the aquamarine, stands a battleship. Tossed by only one creature, the men aboard fall from its unnatural position, plummeting to uncertain demises while cannons snap and tumble downwards as well. It hit the water with such force that half the length submerged instantly. However, before I can dare gawk at the horrific spectacle, a deep, rolling rumble echoes from above, followed by another horrendous mix of snapping wood and parting tides.

To our left is none other than a horde Juggernaught -- this one capsized by its landing. This time, the fierce wave that rushes from this craft broadsides us. The ship tilts to the right, yet maintains full throttle. Despite this chaotic display, however, I catch sight of something just beyond the sinking ship. If I am right then a short distance away, waiting near a small isle, is none other than a tiny, hasty looking craft. That must be what Cappy saw. That must be him. We are so close.

Yet, with the sea being our mode of transportation as well as being our greatest enemy, the distance is unbearable.

Suddenly, a deep rumble rolls from behind. Following suit is the same mixture of crashing that we heard prior, yet this time intensified three fold. From behind comes a overwhelming roar, and the splashing of riled waves. Before I can dare move, a violent force jerks at the belly of ship, lifts us at an angle, and rushes us forward furiously.

Twisting backwards, I catch sight of a ship no more than twenty yards away -- its side smashed by the waves. The entirety of my sight is blocked by the behemoth. As it sinks, the waves it unleashed elevates us to the skies. With each passing second we rise. With each passing second, the top of my vision is freed from the other ship's girth. With each passing second...a horrific display replaces the already unbelievable...

Behind us, nearing the ship he so tossed, is the enormous beast. Now he stands as tall as he did when we first met. Now he moves...with the full rage of the tides. Even with the aid of the recent speed, he gains on us. We are so close to the final goal, yet he has the strength, and the power.

And he nears us, devouring the sideways craft with ease, he begins to lower his arm. Once quaking, amorphous fingers now flicker with certainty. All forms of ferocity waft from his existence, permeating and penetrating any sense of hope. All forms of rage, malice, and hate oscillate from his being like the very waves that give him strength. There will be no escape...there will be no mercy...there will only be the call of the tides. And it beckons for our demise...

"The thrill of the chase!" And his voice pours down, "Drive of the hunt! All that have led you to this so glorious moment! Take peace in this, little mortals, you are but mere toys for my play, and oh, how you have given me glee!"

Crashing tides from his voice, as does the rolling tide become his laugh, "But the end has come! Face now, the triumph of the Waterlord!"

His claw lowers, directs, and locks upon its target. The Lord comes for its prize. The Lord desires to collect its payment for travel. The Lord is limitless in his domain, perfection in his bastion, the soul ruler of his empire. But where he is supreme...there is always a vast existence that he has no control...

"NEPTULON, THE CHILD WILL NOT BE YOURS!" Thunder bellows, "For in your arrogance, you have risen into my supremacy!"

Sparking lightning sends mild sounds aloud, "Feel the wrath of Al'Akir!"

Unexpectedly, a mighty vortex emerges in the left of our vision. As tall as the Waterlord, it also commands the might and strength of him as well. And, catching Neptulon off-guard, the grand funnel collides into the being's side, tearing into him like a grinding gear against rubber. Spigots of water rip from his body as the rolling winds slash into his form. It quickly fades into nothingness before a second appears, slamming into his opposite side. The mighty Being of Water jerks and flinches wildly, the strikes he was unprepared for. Once grand determination has becomes lost, the Lord stationary now...

But where it was lost, comes the epitome of rage...

"I GROW TIRED OF YOUR GAMES, FOOL!" A wall of water bursts around Neptulon, forming a circular barrier for the being. "This ends...NOW!"

He throws his hands downward, pulling with them the barrier.

"From the tides, my strength shall swell!"

He begins to descend into the sea.

"From the waters, my power shall pulse!"

Half his form vanishes.

"There shall be no escape!"

And he is no more.

Alas, as he becomes an illusion of nothingness, the full intent of his words are made apparent. Rising from the waters, like a curled bend of despair, is a quickly elevating barrier of fluids. Navy blue blotches litter the vertically ascending wall, mingling with foaming pockets of white. Dripping droplets of teal waft from the bent construct. It stretches the vast of our sight, becoming the horizon itself. It lifts slowly, yet quickly surpasses the waterlord's true height. It is...a tidal wave...

And at its pace of construction, we have mere seconds before it is unleashed. But it is then, as I watch the watery construct, that a strangely familiar voice rings like a screeching hinge.

"Cappy, Cappy, cappy!" I turn to see a tiny craft, commanded by an equally as tiny captain. The only thing not small about this scale, is the large, furry semi-Tauren. A Taunka? Wait...I know these two...

_You got it!_

_"_You are supposed to bring me the goods, not a god of water!" He pulls his ship along side ours, "Stop making friends with the elements, you prairie dog!"

"Shut up, and let these fellows aboard!"

"Fellows? I didn't order for any men. What, are we smuggling people..."

"Skippy, just do it." Irritation fills the captain's words. "Let them on, we have a few minutes and then all your glorious wealth is going to your children!"

The tiny goblin flinches, "I don't have any children! Ok, ok. Well, those who want to...live...come on over!"

Skippy, the tiny goblin captain, waves his hand in a beckoning motion. Without missing a beat, the courageous Saylem bounds to the edge of the ship, leaps the short gap, and scurries to Safety. Shortly after is Brann, followed by the two followers of Greymane. Nathanos hurriedly jumps moments before does Darion. The royal Kings scurry down the steps, make to the edge, and promptly board. As the two Kings make to their own sanctuary, I catch sight of a troll emerging from beneath us before he finds his way to the sanctum.

Sneaky troll, do not think you are going to get away that easily! We will find out what you were doing...

_You need to worry about yourself! You need to get over to that ship!_

Right, right. I begin to head forward, passing the captain as I do. Expecting him to follow suit, I find it odd he just stands still. Even more peculiar is how he suddenly grabs my arm, violently jerking me back to him. What greets me as I turn, sends a barrage of icy pins down my back.

A set of focused, rather disturbed orbs howler back to me. Curled, unpleasant lips form a seal that signifies rage. This is a look unlike the man...but it must be his true self revealed.

"Not so fast, boy." His fingers tighten, the circulation slowed. "I cannot let...you...off..."

Each word comes slowly, yet ferociously. Each word strikes at my mind, assaulting my being. Each rolls from his tongue as a chill creeps down my arm. It cannot be...

"You will never make...make..."

Oddly, his face contorts, a battle between sorrow and hatred portrayed. He cannot help but look back at my arm where his fingers lie. Lips part, but only a quivering silence is released. The cigar barely holds to his lips, while a set of orbs glaze. Sadly, he looks back to me, tears building at the edges of his eyes.

"The monster came to me in a dream..." his lips quake, revealing signs of forcing back tears, "From his shadows, he told me of a great sea war. Told me of an event exactly like now..."

He stammers briefly,

"Told me of the moment where his fate, my fate...and yours...would be decided."

He swallows fiercely.

"To the tides, is where I must throw you. To the tides, I must betray you. And with your fall, he would find the host to his return."

He struggles to speak these next words immensely.

"With that act, with the imprisonment of your very soul for all eternity, he would bestow upon me the greatest of desires."

He reaches down, grabbing for something unseen with his free hand. I can only imagine it being of despicable ends.

"Of wealth, of power...of my love..."

Unexpectedly, his grip loosens.

"But to betray you means the gallows for me. An indescribably horrific end I cannot face."

His arms jerk, a fierce tug exerted. He is pulling at something...

"I cannot do it, Hope. I will not lead you to a fate I cannot bear as my own. I cannot let him trap you in your own body..." He whimpers, "...even if that means that I will not get to see her again."

Suddenly, he throws a hand upwards. Three fingers are curled inwards, his thumb and forefinger pinching a small, gold band. Strangely, he pulls the cigar from his mouth, slides the ring over the tube, and presents me it.

"She gave me that cigar...told me to use it when it felt right." A weak, depressed smile forms briefly. "Take it."

My eyes drift to it. In this tiny item it is as if an entire lifetime of confusion washes over me. One moment ago, I thought I faced my end at his very hands. Yet now, he delivers to me the most cherished of possessions he owns. Now, he aims me to sanctuary and freedom, but he does not take to it as he so wishes me to...

_You don't get it, do you?_

Confused, I look at him. I make to reply, but he speaks first.

"Do not worry yourself, Hope. I know this must be...wild, but it just happened. Just know through all the confusion, that a pirate just did what you are thinking." He looks to item in my hand, "That and...I am not a big smoker."

He shoves it forward. Startled, I can only gaze at the tiny instrument. I can only stare at the meaning behind it, and the sheer intensity of the moments prior. Did he just tell me that the evil being of shadows came to him in his dreams? Did he just...resist temptation? A pirate...resisting temptation...

_You are a genius! You now need to take the cigar and to stop thinking!_

Still bemused, I reluctantly take the cigar. I roll the untouched end through my fingers. I do not get what is happening. Then, as a tear rolls down his cheek, all questions become answered. All riddles align upon the same end. He let me go, but isn't coming with me. And as my face reacts to the revelation -- shock and amazement apparent -- he smiles through the flowing tears.

"Go, child. Go to that ship. But before you do, " sadness returns just barely, "I ask of you to find my love in Theramore. Look for a small house near the inn, overlooking the courtyard. Look for the angel with flowing, blonde hair. And once you do, tell her I thought of her every time I closed my eyes. Tell her, I drew her face amongst the stars. Tell her, I stayed away for her to protect her...and that she is safe now."

He smiles.

"Oh, and lastly, Neptulon won't chase you. I have that covered. Now go!"

Fading from his face, the smile becomes nothing. Crying calmly, he shoves me.

I throw him a nod. A nod to signify all the answers he bestowed, to express the thanks I have for him. But with my movements is where my respect is apparent. And with that, I turn, aim myself for movement, and take a few steps. But, before I leave him, I let what just happened fill my mind. I let the unbelievable sight of a man fulfilling the deeds only few dare attempt to achieve. I let...his saving actions fuel my soul, my body, and my lips.

"I shall tell her you fought as a man. You fought for the ones you loved...and gave all for your people." A nod again, "You went out..."

I grasp the railing, holding back tears of my own. Just barely am I able to break the barrier, keep from bawling, and finish...

"...a hero."

As the words emit, an aura of determination washes over him. It is as if a new man is created this day. It is as if all his prior, unknown actions and motives have been driven upon this very moment. It is as if all that he has done, all evils he has committed, are consumed by the righteousness of this situation. It is as if...he is reborn...

"It shall be an honor, Hope Blackwood." Oddly, he chuckles, "To think just weeks ago I never knew that name..."

Firmly, he narrows his eyes at me, seriousness returning, yet at the same time a revelation strikes him.

"He knew I was going to be part of your tale." His eyes drift as he assembles an unseen jigsaw puzzle, "He has been planning this..."

Fiery eyes return, the answers to his sudden riddle stomped into precise conclusions.

"Be warned, child." He looks to the goblin's ship. "Trust no one, Hope. If he came to me, than there are others."

He looks back to me.

"In this time of darkness, even your closest friends can be lurking in your shadows..."

There is a brief silence.

"Go. Continue your story." His eyes navigate to the tides behind us. "There is no more time to waste..."

Promptly, he gazes back to me. I hesitate, but the firm, menacing glares he gives stirs my feet. Despair feeding my body, I dart down the steps, run to the edge of the still moving vessel, and make a fine, sturdy leap. I land with a thud, but am quickly pulled to my feet by Nathanos. He pats me before slapping the back of my head for some unknown reason.

_You know he doesn't need a reason._

I turn back to the ship, and watch as the grand vessel suddenly departs from our side. At the wheel is a strong captain. Beneath him runs a crew greater than one-hundred men. Behind him he leaves a ship of bewildered guests to his natural environment..

"Where does that lunatic think he is going?" Saylem shouts. "There is no way he is to escape! Prison is far better than death!"

Greymane cackles sinisterly, "He won't make it far. The swell will catch him in no time."

Suddenly, Wrynn appears in sight, passing Greymane and moving to the ship's railing. He narrows his vision upon the craft, perusing its surface. Curious optics hunt the lengths of the turning, wooden vessel for answers. Ocular cannons of determination seek for results deeper than what is obvious. Then, as they widen, he receives his answers...

"He isn't running..."

"What?" Greymane snorts. "What sort of insanity is he dealing with, then?"

Wrynn stands upright, bracing his chest and sniffling. If I didn't know any better, his pride is overwhelmed by what he just discovered...

"The sort that involves fulfilling your actions for your King...and your country." I cannot see it, but I know he smiling. "The sort that involves your sworn duty as a man"

And at that, silence caresses our vessel, allowing only the roar of the tides for our company. It also allows for us all to hear the captain as he rather zealously cries. It allows for the sole individual deserving to to speak...

"Men!" Cappy stomps his foot before emitting the words us few knew coming. "Are you ready to die?"

There is a brief delay before a set of hollering, muffled men reply.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Impossible!" Greymane shouts loudly, "He isn't dearing..."

"Fire-face, " Nathanos steps up besides Greymane, interrupting him, "stop talking. You are ruining the moment."

And with the undead's wise words, the true speaker continues.

"Good!" He grips the wheel. "You deserve the rest and relaxation."

Throwing the wheel, Cappy makes a hard right, making a near 180 degree movement. Facing the opposite route of us, he barrels headlong in the direction only a madman dear navigate. Ahead of him lurches forward the mighty wall of terror and anguish. It is taller than any city, elevated higher than any mountain. It spans endlessly for the eye to see. The sheer mass slows it significantly, but bears its strength gloriously.

But the Captain knows no delay or tampered movements. The Captain only knows the course he must take, and the fate he must be delivered to. The Captain knows many a thing, but grasps but one: straight and true is his path, and there is nothing that will stop him. Nothing.

And as we leave him to the roaring tides, he calls once again, his glory still audible.

"Neptulon, you sissy, the action is completed! I did what was so commanded of me!"

He nears the massive wall. As he does the tides seem to notice him, moving and shaking to his advance. They swell angrily as he nears. They are welcoming him...with rage...

"Oh, wait, you didn't know. Your master didn't think you could do it. So...I did. I DID IT! Look, a mortal besting a semi-god. Ha."

Closer now, but his voice fades into the roaring, infuriated storm he so prods.

"I fulfilled my part of the deal, now give this pirate something worthy of his grand deeds!"

Rolling into the heavens, the waves reach their massive height. There they hold strong, preparing for the final blow. From here, we can no longer hear any cries nor calls of a maniac. From here, we can only see a small figure amidst a sea of blue. From here, the lot of us can barely make out the Captain coming to an upright stance. He locks his legs, and throws a hand to his forehead. He is saluting...

For the respect of the tides, for his men, for all of the heroes to be born, for everything to come, that is why he salutes. For the pride of this world's fallen, and of the might of the seas is why he holds firmly. For the glory of his actions is why he holds commandingly. But mainly, it is for his crew, for this moment, for this very second...

And for the one he loves.

But it must all come to an end. And so, fiercely, mercilessly, the waves of injustice come crashing down...

In a flash, he is devoured by the raging tides. In a blur, the wall is no more, taking with it the ship, the crew, and the Captain. Left behind is a mild, churning sea, the first battle of many finished. In a frenzied second it is all over...

But from the wake a miracle seems to stir from the depths. It is at this very moment that clouds break just slightly, calling down a beam of light that seems to stir peace into the tides. Such a marvelous sight, such a deserving mark to signal the end of a hero. It is beyond beautiful, and righteous of such an end. A great finale to Cappy's most marvelous tale.

And as I stare, knowing full well the Lord is appeased with the sacrifice, a depressing feeling washes over me. Cappy was the first to give his life for the fate of this planet during these uncertain times...

But he won't be the last...


	23. Chapter 21: Vengeance's Tale

_"Victory is strength. Death is the ultimate weakness. Go, my son, earn your strength, and give your enemies ever-lasting weakness!"_

_An orc father to his son as the boy readies for his first battle._

* * *

Warm, delicate pockets of air hug close to skin. Drawing, finger-like gusts lure my stirred mind towards a fantasy land I only dare dream of. Clouds break to allow sparkling, golden rays of sunlight to bounce hospitably off my face. All of it so perfect, so welcome, but yet, it does nothing to calm a lost soul.

And at this point in time, I am not sure if it is the Captain that is lost…or if it is me…

All I know is that my mind is stuck in a sort of limbo. I wish to flee this path I am on, run to any sanctum of ignorance that I can dare find. The other demands a quick resolution to it all, beat or be beaten. The only problem with them both is…I don't know what I am yearning to run from, or dying to fight.

But that still doesn't really bother me. Of course it should, but…it doesn't. I guess blind questing has always been my forte. At least that is what everyone tells me.

_You are a wandering dolt!_

I will just ignore that. Ignore it like I do the vast horizon behind us. The calm, rolling waves built of impeccable navy blue. Amazing, white pockets blaring back the tranquil beams from above. Tiny curls licking the air, tempting the taste buds and letting loose unseen wafts of delicious, salty winds.

Ignore it all. Ignore it…and the man forever consumed by them. Ignore it, and the brave soul that will be soon forgotten in the annuals of history just as I have been time and time again. But I cannot. My body yearns to find him, bring him to a place of honor, and bury him as a hero.

Bury him…it is my job. And I have been neglecting it…

"Troll, if you do not tell me what is happening," Nathanos' calm, yet infuriated ring finally calls to me, "I am going to hit you with something."

I turn to find Tok making to reply. However, the undead is rather fixated on his own rant,

"_With what and how hard_, you were going to ask. I know, I am good." He pats his chest proudly, "Do not praise my anticipation of the future/ Instead praise how I plan to fulfill my predictions."

He pivots on his heels, facing away from him.

"And let me tell you, Troll," he spins on his heals locking back on Tok, "you shall be struck with something as dense as Worm's head and wielded as fiercely as Saylem's idiocy."

"Hey!" Saylem yelps, "What did I do…"

Nathanos twists and raises his hand. An extended pointer wriggles at Saylem – a worm poking from soil. For a few seconds he commences in the rather odd movement before hastily throwing the finger to his lips.

"Silence please!"

The rather odd behaving man twists to Tok again.

"So…where were we? Ah yes!" Bony hands release a grotesque crackling sound as they smack together – a quasi-clap of a dead man. "So, Troll, go on? Tell us a grand tale worthy of my ears and powerful enough to avoid being bludgeoned!"

Nathanos throws his arms to his sides. There he waits patiently, a weak, sinister smirk forming at the edges of his nearly skinless face. Seconds pass, and slowly, the once eager expression fades. More time elapses, and the once perky demeanor molds into a concoction of mild frustration and spews the need to inflict pain.

"Well, mon, da story be long…" Tok finally speaks.

"Well, then shorten it. We don't have time to hear a novel in words."

"Ok."

He drums a long, teal digit along his staff. Twisting his head, he peers off to the side of the craft, taking in full view of the visible land and the clearly present city of Theramore. It will not be long until we pull into port, and if I know this troll, he is prepping a story that literally fills the span of time…

"Troll?" An agitated undead grunts, "Don't go all Hope on me now."

Tok sighs, "Ok, mon, I done make it short." He keeps his eyes focused on the coast, "A few weeks ago, I done have terrible visions. Dark voodoo images of evil proportions…"

"Dark, evil, I like. Continue."

Tok rolls his eyes towards Nathanos, a form of disgust radiating from the interruption.

"Anyway, mon, da vision done show of a dense forest, death clinging to every branch. Zombies, ghoulees, all sorts of undead roaming around. It was of da Plaguelands. It was were we all…"

"Oh, I can relate. I like even…"

"Mon, shut it!"

"Fine. Fine!" Sorrow slightly seeps from his words. "I will let you continue. For now."

"Amongst da dark woodlands, behind the tallest of trees, near the most decrepit of fields, dere be a lone figure standing amidst an even smaller forest. A forest…of concrete angels, of rounded, flat pillars…a forest of the buried. A graveyard."

Clothe folds and wrinkles as the troll leans towards Nathanos and us all.

"The figure, if ya haven't guessed it yet, was ours truly." Dark brown pupils align with me, "It be our little Hope Blackwood."

As these words slip his lips, a strange twisting tugs at my innards. Nausea creeps up my esophagus. Words of past events sweep my mind; trying to recover the time the troll told me that I was in his visions…

_You know he didn't._

He didn't…and from the way he absorbs my expression of shock, he knows full well he didn't either.

"Yes, mon." He speaks vaguely to all, but directs that statement for my lost mind. "And as ya stood dere, da world began to churn. Da stones beneath his decaying corp done torn, ripped, and rocked."

His eyes narrow.

"Spewing from da tremors in da crust, flowing from the scars of da lands, secreting from da earthy wounds, was not dat of fire nor lava. It was not magma nor churning waters. It was not da planet's fury dat released…"

Intensity bathes his body. Severity coats his existence.

"It be darkness. Rolling, curling, clawing darkness, mon." His pitch heightens, "Da shadows done flowed from da crust, filling da skies with black evil!"

Movements draw excitement and horror.

"It be da shadows, mon! And dey came, hungering, yearning for ya flesh, but ya fought! Ya spade drove the menace back!" Triumph and joy coat his every syllable, "Da earth devoured da evil, but as da boy had nearly vanquished da beast…"

Despair returns, becoming his only tone.

"From da skies, a winged beast concocted of death caught da mon by surprise! But our hero knew no defeat! He knew no fear, and da two spurred, engaged in mortal combat!"

Once again, his voice rains upbeat tones.

"And dis beast found da righteousness of da light, mon!" A smirk forms upon his face, "Da mighty Deathwing himself found defeat up da hands of a single mortal! By da hands of a lone human…"

Depressingly, the once grand display of courage and glee fades, becoming a bleak expression of sorrow. Lost eyes wander within a teal plane, searching for the joy he knew but seconds ago. And he continues quietly, as if the very words bring him pain…

"But…it was a lie, mon." He cannot look from the deck, "Da shadows returned, sneaking in when ya thought it be over. Dey crept back into play, enveloping ya very body in darkness. Warping yer body into something beyond reckoning."

Dark-brown pupils dart back and forth, hunting for sanity. Lips quiver, seeking comfort. But he will maintain no sanity here…

"Emerging from yer twisted, dark self was da Lord of Da Shadows…"

But he will find no comfort amongst his words…

"It was the Old God's final creation…"

There is only room for truth's disgust.

"It was…"

A quaking troll makes to emit the last words. Optics roll in their sockets. They pray for an easy end to the tale, but will find nothing along those lines. None of his body can dare conjure the strength necessary to express what he must say…

"Enluzen…" But it is in the words of a small, stout dwarf where the conclusion is found. "The Curse of Flesh…in physical form."

"Impossible!" Greymane jerks near the tiny goblin, "You lie, dwarf! The Curse was just that, a dark evil brought as a plague!"

Wrynn stirs next to the man, "The lumbering lummox makes a point, Brann. All books and historical archives read the curse as a disease, not an actual manifestation…"

Angrily, the tiny man spins upon his heels, "Who do ye think wrote them books, King? Huh? It was me, it was the great Brann!"

A tiny, hotdog finger jabs his very own chest, "And I was wrong! I was fool, a blind ninny!" He grows more frustrated, "It was my ignorance and my arrogance! It was foolishness. It was my…lack of any true knowledge."

Branns suddenly warps his tone, sad lips spewing distressed tales -- almost speaking to himself now.

"All I have learned from my time is that I know nothing." Words oscillate as if preparing for tears, "…and it is a nightmare I cannot escape."

Heavy footsteps ring from wooden planks. A figure moves with complete haste, and before I can twist, a pale, bony man appears in my sight. Swiftly, he lunges at the small dwarf, throwing his mangled, fleshless arms at him.

In a flash he pulls the man from his feet and rushes to the edge of the ship. To my dismay, Nathanos clutches Brann in the air, dangling him over the edge of the ship.

"I can help you escape it, you little menace!" He shouts furiously.

"Lad, what do ye think…"

"I have grown tired of you and the troll's games!" Rage hugs his breath, "Spill it all, dwarf, or I will guarantee the first think you truly understand in your life is that if I am not teaching you to swim, then I am throwing you to the waters to drown!"

Miniature legs kick at the air. Tiny mitts wrap around senseless, merciless claws. Wrinkled, tattered clothing is bunched beneath spiked, pale fingers. The Dwarf tries to fight, but as he is held midair, he cannot help but glance to the undead and then to the water.

And from his sudden lack of fight and heavy sighing, he does not like the outcome…

"Lad, could ye at least put me…"

"Nope, this story is being told to its fullest before I give you the comfort of safety."

"Marris!" Wrynn shouts from above, "Put the dwarf down!"

Nathanos twists, fury coating his expressionless face, "King, if you even dare try to stop me then I am going to beat you to death with this dwarf."

Wrynn takes a step forward and Nathanos moves Branns in a sinister manner. Instantly, the man stops and holds firmly upon the steps. Honestly, if someone threatened to pummel me to an early grave with a dwarf, then I'd have second thoughts of engaging him in combat too…

_You don't want to be clubbed by an intelligent mammal._

Returning my focus back to the fray, Nathanos draws his eyes to a fine line of deadly precision. Jagged, bladed teeth grind deep paths into each other. Tendonless arms flex menacingly, prepping for a hearty battle. Fleshless lips quake with potent fury as they ready to unleash a barrage of harsh pulses.

But he is unable to act, react, or do any of the sort…

"Lad, don't ye be worrying about tenacious Brann now." The tiny dwarf wriggles as if trying to get comfortable in his current stance. "What needs to be said…needs to be said King, and if this sickly Trogg needs it out this way then fine. I have been in worse."

Nathanos nods, but never loses his ferocity, "See, if we were civil about this then nothing would have happened. Now the dwarf is gonna regal us, and I won't need to watch him flop in the waters like a fish."

He shrugs.

"Not that that would have been depressing in any way."

"Lad?" Brann speaks to Marris, "Ye finished yet? I would like to begin."

"Yeah, sure." Sinisterly he twists to Brann and gives him a rather violent shake, "But don't you leave out a single IMPORTANT detail. Otherwise, I am going to shake you until you forget your name!"

It takes a brief moment for the dwarf to compose himself after the mild shock.

"Aye, lad…ye will get ye blasted tale." He blinks three times, driving the…shake…from his body, "Now, give me'a'minute to see how we will begin this…"

Beady, black pupils shift within a dwarf's skull. They navigate the passages of the mind, searching for the perfect plot for the marvelous story to menace. Sadly, as he persists to be silent, the fury of the undead is slowly gathered.

"It was two moons ago…" Finally his eyes roll back into position and he begins, "…the heroes of Azeroth stormed the belly of the Titan Fortress known as _Wintergrasp_ for what would be the last time_._"

His tiny legs flail suddenly for some unknown reason.

"After hours of momentous fighting and courageous battling, our heroes stood victorious; the guardians silenced. And once their rewards and been sorted and the spoils spent, they left the hollowed halls to their eternal peace."

Black eyes are narrowed as a stern voice sweeps over him.

"It was then that Ol'Brann decided to venture into these halls. It was then that I needed to know what was so sacred within them passages." He rocks his shoulders to gain some sort of relief; "I searched those stone-carved caverns for weeks, finding nothing of importance. I perused every nook and examined every cranny, but nothing. Nothing…until that one fateful day…"

Brann's lips quiver as if excited.

"That day of days. That moment of triumph." He smacks his lips as if savoring it, "As I hunted the final, bleak passage, I found something rather odd. After salvaging one of the giant, stone-guardian's corpse, I noticed a tiny chisel attached to his left pinky. The tip was dulled as if used, but the lack of blood denied it any sort of combat."

There is a brief pause.

"My curious mind went to wandering, and my sixth sense of discovery went into overdrive. Finally I found the missing piece. Finally, I found, etched into the floor, the words that began my newest adventure. The words the sprung me mind into realms it dared not tempt."

The wind grows still, even the harsh gusts of the bay silenced by the intent focus of our crew.

"_Fear mortals, your time has run dry. Your master comes. Vengeance returns_."

Suddenly, a strong breeze envelops my person. All sense of joy, all sense of glee fades into those very words. But even as my soul grows weary and my mind strained, I cannot help but yearn for his continuance.

And he cannot help but satiate that lust…

"The words struck my body with full force, and I uncontrollably found a barrage of pricks assault my person. Unable to control my grand self, I nobly turned tale and sprinted like a true man." He smirks briefly, "Nothing slowed my escape. Nothing dared impede my retreat. Nothing…except for rather odd anomaly that caught me as I neared the exit…"

Oddly, he stares skyward.

"Orange ripples bounced like rogue flares across the tranquil amber sphere. Mists of white and silver intertwined upon its round, silky surface. It sparkled like a star amidst a field of darkness. It was the last remnant of the Titan's. It was their relic. And it called me…beckoned me as if chosen."

A tiny, pudgy paw extends upwards as if he trying to grab something unseen.

"I went to it. I went to touch it…but before I could defile it with my filthy, mortal hands, it sparked – flashed brightly. The ember burst and crackled as if damaged, as if destroyed. Then it recoiled into itself, imploding into the very epicenter. At first I panicked, fearing it was lost. But such a magnificent sight does not simply vanish for no good reason."

Black pupils shift downward, their unseen spectacle now resting at the deck.

"No, as it became nothingness in bulk, it became everything in conciseness. Falling from the core was a small, golden fragment. It didn't sparkle nor radiate any magnificent hue. It simply clanked upon the cold floor, waiting for someone to bring it warmth once again. And Brann is a tiny furnace and generous with his heat, so he went to it. He retrieved…the Demon soul."

Suddenly, he gasps as if winded. Wrynn flinches, assuming Nathanos was strangling him, but Brann recoils, reliving the event to its entirety.

"They called to me. Four voices chiming as six. Three warned me of events to come, and promised me grand rewards. One…one did neither of the sorts. One simply yelled to me, begging, pleading…for aid. It requested I come…to the lost lands so forgotten. To the unearthed bastion…of Uldum."

His eyes widen.

"And I listened. I gathered a team as quickly as'a'mighty adventurer could, and I ventured to the very lands. We borrowed past the sundered gates, fought massive stone warriors, bested the tests of the Titans! We did what no mortal dared try, and found…what we were never supposed to find…"

Hesitation grips him as the words become acid to his throat. He swallows harshly, forcing back the verbal vomit before quietly emitting…

"It was a trap…"

Those words slip from this throat like dry winds from a cavern's belly.

"At the bottom of the large, sloped ramp, in the center of a vast, nearly vacant room, was a towering, golden statue of a twisted man bound by four shackles. The expression on his face was nothing less than the complete mesh of sorrow, despair, rage…and fury. A man troubled from within, but his target of aggression in plain sight…"

Again his lips oscillate silently for a few, fleeting seconds.

"As we neared, the shard in my hand grew hot; unbelievably painful to the touch. Being an intelligent man, I made to throw it away…but a rush of raw, thermal energy struck me like a bitter, desert wind. And from it…came a flash of white, and the visions that will haunt me forever…"

He peers to Marris, his eyes begging for a release from his past...

"My crew began to thrash wildly, their minds exposed to unimaginable horrors. Some ran in circles, clutching their heads. Others…drew to their blades, gouging their own eyes from their sockets. I do not know what came to them, but I do know…it was nothing short of a true Nightmare."

Sniffles rain from his saddened nostrils.

"So lucky to avoid that wrath, what came to me…was something I never thought could come. I found myself standing amidst a dark, horrible chamber. Not like the one where the gold demon stood, but of some time past. And standing beside me was a black figure, borne of the shadows, moving and burning like pitch-black fire."

Beady pupils become lost in a sea of horrified white.

"He embraced me, telling me that this was a vision. A scene of long past built for his worthy minion. For me. And in a cloud of sinister smoke he vanished, leaving me…" he flinches, "…leaving me…to…the scene…"

His tone lessens, as he recalls the obviously painful events.

"Amidst a pool of churning, teal lava rested six, dark figures. Each one was more sinister than the last. Each one was dark to the core, and as powerful as their taint. They were the Old Gods. And as I stood there, the six unleashed a powerful barrage of foul energies, all of it colliding upon a single orb, all merging to form one great…sphere of damnation…"

Lost eyes shift in their sockets, uncertain of what to look upon.

"In a mighty explosion of horror and iniquitous design, the beasts brought their powers together, forming a single lone figure amongst a sea of agony. Emerging from the bursting clouds, thrashing winds and malignant waves…was a pink, tiny object…it was…"

Uncertain eyes lock upon an undead's face…

"It was…a human. It was man. And as he rose from the pit of sorrow, from the chasm of despair, the Dark Elders called to him, "

A deep, malicious voice rolls from his throat unnaturally, sending chills down my spine as the words are sinisterly emitted…

"_The foolish creators dare come, dare thwart the actions we so rightfully planned! Let them wither in the TRUE crafters, in the TRUE form of definition. Rise now, Curse of the Flesh! Rise, Enluzen! Rise…Vengeance! Rise, and bring to this planet our everlasting sign! So that the false prophets may never forget…the true…creators…"_

Narrowed eyes focus upon mental, internal visages…

"And the man to be known as Enluzen, the being to embody the cursed word of Vengeance as his very name, embraced his purpose and his cause. Using him, the Old Gods delved into the pockets of his remarkable power, crafting an army of giant, fleshy warriors to forever be known as Vrykul, or…the Old Warriors."

A normal, calm voice returns to the dwarf.

"Enluzen, Vengeance, was sent to Northrend to find the men crafted in his image. Once he arrived, he became a Shepard of the original mortals. He cared for his flock as a god, giving his unaware creations all needs required for existence. In return, the Vrykul began worshipping the Curse…as if he was a Titan."

Brann pauses briefly to wet his lips.

"It was from these actions that Enluzen felt feeling unlike anything before. For the first time since his creation, he discovered…what all men seek. What all men yearn for. Power. And he took to it like a piglet to the suckling. At first, he found barriers manifested within himself, created to give the Old God's an eye on their creation."

Brann chuckles uneasily.

"Hasty in their creation, the Old God's had failed to truly confine their own concoction, and in no time, Enluzen overcame all blockades, all checks and balances. It was as if the being was free for the first time, and he took to his wings like an eagle."

The dwarf nods, a bit of joy filling his tone.

"He began siphoning power from anything worthy: the Vrykul, the trees, the planet, all that could feed his naturally human desire for strength. He even dared to strike at his warring creators, drawing their very essence into his body."

He smirks as if what he thinks of next is comical.

"As his own crafters fought the Titans, he chiseled away at their internal cores. And as his power grew, so did what makes every man, every mortal, what they are. The vexes known as emotions." Nathanos loosens his grip briefly as if bored. "Woah, lad, I ain't finished yet…"

Swiftly, the undead draws him back into position.

"Oops…"

"Anyway…the untamed being began forging within himself all the grand elements of our existence; humility, joy, sorrow…all sorts, including…" he speaks the next word as if a dark secret, "…jealousy. And with that sprite of motivation, he no longer looked upon the world the same way. His creators became the key masters to his existence. They were the jailors of his form, and the dark beings that haunted him. Even his minions, the Vrykul, no longer were infants for the nursing, but abominations built to keep the being distracted."

Narrowing eyes signify severity and alarm all of us of the importance of what comes.

"He no longer could stand the men that were supposedly his. They were twice his size, in stature, and their features molded by the Dark Elders, or…his false masters. So he took it upon himself to fix what was so obviously wrong. To correct the travesties that were committed. He embedded into the Vrykul a design of his very own, causing the beings to spawn tiny, unnatural appearing infants. He crafted a curse of his own…creating beings in his true image. He…created man…from mortals…"

Brann grows resilient, his words now following the tone of Enluzen's plight.

"Abandoning the Vrykul to their curse, he turned to the coasts. There, at the sea's edge, he took upon the waters not as an obstacle, but as a path for his flight. The being, his power beyond reckoning, raised from the waters a mighty bridge of stone – it stretching for as far as the eye could see."

Brann raises his arms as if reenacting Enluzen's event.

"As he starred upon it, freedom at hand, he smiled. With one last act bearing his name, he struck a fierce blow at his jailors, siphoning from them a vast amount of strength, leaving them weakened."

Whites of his eyes vanish as heavy brows consume his optics – almost as if maddened.

"The Old Gods felt the blow like a dagger to their nonexistent hearts. They found their carelessness had molded what was to supposed to be their perfect vengeance into their worst foe. Furious and desperate, they had no efforts nor forces that could dare stop what they created. Instead, out of foolishness or fear, the monster's decided on a second being, this one unnamed, unidentified with anything but a single purpose. And to guarantee her end, they bore into the frailty of time's eventual demise. And for a second time, amidst the dark pool, a being was born. A mortal soldier crafted from guile, stealth, and cunning. Its purpose...to destroy Vengeance..."

Brann sighs, relieving himself of unseen but obvious pains and anguishes. He then wets his lips again, preparing to continue this rather lengthy story. Nathanos definitely cannot be pleased…

"Enluzen, at this point, had fled across the vast land of Kalimdor and ventured to the tranquil forests of Tanaris. There he crafted a mighty fortress amongst the mountains nearest the waters he enjoyed. He sat upon a grand throne, concocting beasts of stone, and molding animals of flesh for his amusement. But…" Brann becomes despaired, "…something was missing. Something…was out of place…"

The dwarf, once again, takes the feelings of Enluzen as a true storyteller, embodying in his words of sorrow and eyes of grief.

"And as Enluzen rested, the unnamed creature built for his demise, came to fulfill its duties. With blade at hand and enemy in sight, snuck up upon Enluzen with ease. It readied to deal the fatal incision, but…as it neared, Enluzen turned, embracing the creation with his full fury. Vengeance was never blind. But…what happened next is only to be noted as the greatest of events…"

Brann smirks…gleefully…

"He took upon the creature with complete amazement. It was bearing of his soft flesh, but its design was not of his own. Grand curvature and supple features lured him in ways never felt before, and all urge for destruction within him faded. And the unnamed one froze; not from terror, but from the intense warmth that clutched her chest. Irresistibly, the two circled one another, eying each other like wild beasts. And as the two moved in, they became lost in the moment…baffled by each other's existence…"

He chuckles…

"For as he met she…the natural state of the Old God's Blessing vanished, replaced by...amazing warmth . And as he moved to her, uncertain for what to come, he asked for her name. But her creators had not blessed with an identity, but simply a cause. Enluzen, however, could not have it that way. So he pulled her close, held her for the first time…giving her the name meaning, in old tongue..."

Excitement fills his every, heaving breath.

"He called her…his Beauty. His…Elune. And with her in his arms, all despair he once felt, all that once pained him, fleeted as she so unknowingly healed his unseen wounds. And with her in his arms…love was born."

"Awww." A high-pitched squeal radiating from a tiny, green man, interrupts Brann fully. "I love happy endings. All we are missing is a snacky…"

Shaking his head, Brann pats the nonsensical words with ease, "Lad, calm ye self, we ain't finished yet."

Once again, he wriggles in the still focused Marris. Odd, normally Nathanos gets bored by now, throwing a tantrum for so much time wasted. Especially since Skippy is now trying to pull us into port as we speak. Of course, knowing how this goblin pilots anything, we may end up ramming something before we…

"And the two took to their newfound feelings with ease, drawing strength from each other, spending every waking moment as one. They even molded the fields of the gorgeous Tanaris with their yearning for each other. It was the happiest of times, and the most joyous of stories."

Sorrow quickly consumes his voice.

"But all good things most come to an end, lad. And upon one night, as the two embraced each other fully, the same pin pricks that prodded me back within Wintergrasp struck Enluzen, and he knew instantly that a grand triumph had come. He knew…the Old Gods had been defeated."

Brann nods.

"A sense of joy filled his void, but he felt something amidst. The feeling of safety, of tranquility, could not envelop his person any longer. For you see, as the two lovers loved, the untamed beast did not keep check on his own strength, and he, without knowing it, had tapped into beings far greater than himself."

Heavy eyebrows hide nearly all of his miniature optics.

"Enluzen had been siphoning might from the Titans themselves. And by doing so, he alerted them to his presence and his possible threat. Leaving the defeated Dark Elders in limbo, their fates all but determined, the mighty Creators descended upon Tanaris, seeking the being capable of striking at the Great Ones' power."

A tiny mitt rolls into a fist.

"The Titans' armies marched upon this grand Keep, but Enluzen tried to plead with them, to ask for their blessing. But as he spoke, the Titans learned of his true source, of his true masters, and unwilling to hear tainted tales of Old God fallacies, their fury was unleashed."

A rather sinister smirk stretches beneath a heavy, ruby beard.

"Alas, what the Titans thought to be a swift victory, turned into the war of ages. The two lovers built an army matching their assailants, and the southern edge of this world became a swirling abyss of raging chaos. For months, the battle persisted, the forest littered with broken earthen bodies, and crushed, fleshy frames."

Suddenly, the smirk fades, and his eyebrows cock upwards.

"The Titans, with their infinite powers, could not defeat the two. They could not break their combined strength. Unknown to them prior, they felt what all their foes had faced in their wake. They discovered desperation. For these foes fought with actual tactics and maneuvers, unlike the mass-swarm strikes of Old Gods. Unable to stop the slowly advancing armies of their enemies, the Titans turned to another option…to find weakness in the generals."

Beady eyes glaze over, foreshadowing the events to come.

"And, after weeks of hunting, and searching, they were able to penetrate the ever-growing strength of Enluzen. They found his weakness…they found his downfall. So, with all their strength combined, they drew their foe into the open, lover at side, and unleashed a barrage of power capable of vaporizing this very planet."

He chuckles unnervingly.

"But Enluzen was stronger than they ever imagined, and with his overwhelming might, he threw back energy with the ferocity to counteract the two in a display of flashing, blinding lights, and swirling, enveloping clouds. Enluzen's vision was faded, and it was then, amidst his egotistical display, that the Titan's plan had fallen into place. It was then, as Vengeance lay dazed, that the Titan's could deal the killing blow..."

His lips quiver painfully, what he has to say becoming more and more difficult to eject.

"And as he staggered, he felt the attack. Instantly, he grew weak, but as the haze of the explosion faded, he quickly discovered that he was left unscarred. Untouched by the Titan's true powers! But yet…he…felt sapped."

Oscillating words signify his attempts to hold back unseen tears.

"It took but a moment for his heart to drop, and his focus to falter. It took but a moment for him to search the broken clouds of a shattering sun. It took but a moment…for him to find the crumpled figure that no longer stood beside him."

Breaking through, the dwarf cannot win, and the tears flow.

"Anguish strangled his form. Agony swept his remarkably existence. Disbelief consumed his vision. And ice…filled his veins. For at his feet rested the scarred, wounded body of that which completed him." He quivers, "The howls he unleashed made the armies halt, the tides recede, the angels weep, and the Titans regret. And as he cried in agony, he fell to his knees, the pain beyond reckoning. Carefully, he pulled her to his arms as he did the first time he met…"

He sniffles.

"He called to her. He yearned for her. And with all his might, he tried to save her. But this being had not discovered the strength of reincarnation. So she grew cold, and his heart sank. Finally, after what felt like an eternity for them both, she spoke her last words, _I'm always safe…in your…arms. _And the mortality he would never share with her, consumed her wholly, leaving behind a lone tear upon her lost life."

Tears moisten the edges of this thick beard, darkening it ever so slightly.

"Numbness enveloped his person, driving back all emotions he once suckled upon. And as she left him alone upon the battlefield, the man cusped her last tear -- her last moment of life. With it, he starred into the void of despair, and found only what he could. He found…himself looking back. He found…vengeance…wanting…"

A sudden contortion of his face becomes rather perturbing. Rage grasps his once sorrowed demeanor.

"He spoke as he gazed into it: _My love, I shall give to you the greatest part of me. I shall part to you all that you built within me, and I shall place it where it belongs. In the heavens, for all time, so that I know you will watching me. Keeping me safe…where…I failed you.."_

Rage fills Brann's rather overzealous voice.

"And so he did, placing all emotions they created together into the tiny, teal bead. Throwing it to the heavens, he let it soar before it burst into a display of remarkable grandeur; leaving behind the glowing orb that shall be forever known as the Moon as his gift to his love."

He clenches his fist again.

"Sadly, the beast had lived to his words completely, emptying his form of nearly all sacred emotions. As he watched the Moon sparkle, his vacant heart was flooded by that which was hidden back when he broke the shackles of his jailers. And his calm self was quickly warped by the surging fury of his unyielding hatred, rage, and yearning...for revenge..."

A warm gust washes upon me, drawing beads of sweat to my brow.

"Unable to stand the pain of his lost love any longer, he drew the anguish to his flesh, magnified it a million fold, and unleashed it upon his beloved forest with full force. A dome of raw energy tore from the man, shooting across the plains with haste unimaginable." Brann licks his lips, the unseen heat too much for him, "And as the fires swept the lands of Tanaris, that which he and his love built was lost, destroyed by his rage, leaving behind a field of sand, a desert. But he had lost control himself...and the once beautiful lakes of Thousand Needles was boiled into nothingness, and the beautiful pool that is now present day Un'Goro Crater was dried up by a volcano raging from beneath the water's depths."

Brann shakes violently, the undead not doing a thing. A raising voice and heightened pitch signify his true concoction with this tale.

"And as tears flowed from his raging, blind self, the Titans knew what must be done before the being ravaged every inch of this planet. Taking advantage of his wild, thrashing state, the Titans went to destroy him. But they were foolish. Despite his appearance, the beast knew his course, and let it flow freely. And the Titans could do nothing. So Enluzen marched fiercely and quickly, sapping the planet as he marched. Soon, he neared the Barrens, its once grand meadows of beautiful grass withered, turning to sickly plots..."

A tinge of disappointment and shame coat his words,

"It was then that the Titans gathered, and decided on the coarse of action to end his rampage. It was then, they took the words of Enluzen's love and embraced their power over him. It was then, they drew the beast to the Shimmering Flats. It was then they unleashed the sun to cloud his vision. It was then, for the Titan's first time, that they shed all dignity...all remorse..."

He swallows fiercely.

"And then it was done. As the blinding light dulled, Enluzen's vision was forever lost. For the Titans had crafted an illusion within his very mind, inserted from the pulse of the star. It was a prison of unimaginable evils – trapping him in a perpetual sequence of events that he could only see. Within it, Enluzen would relive the events prior to his love's death, forever trying to save her from her fate. Forever…trying to keep her safe in his arms. Forever…trying to fulfill his promise."

Sorrow returns to Brann's once disturbing tone.

"And so his rage was calmed, but he was still a threat. They gathered a second time, and once again, his fate was decided. Almost afraid of his wrath, they concocted a prison unlike any other. They laid waste to his once mighty fortress, sunk it into the sands, and built a tomb for him out his own creations. Four shackles were molded upon each of his limbs, each one infused with the essence of an elemental lord, each one's key locked behind the swirling gate of the World Trees, protected by mighty guardians."

There is a brief pause as he attempts to compose himself.

"Continuing, they kept the remaining Old Gods, his old creators, alive. They knew that if he was able to be freed of their horrific spell, that they would buy precious time to reseal the beast back in his prison. Once the barriers were formed, they made to flee, but beast hollered endlessly, sending his cries upon the winds -- its very whisper. He screamed and yelled, molding the echo as rolling thunder. To stop this, they encased the being in gold, making him appear as a simple statue. Forever lost…forever hidden."

To my dismay, Brann's eyes navigate for my person.

"For eons the beast lay buried, hidden from all thought and mind. For eons, the Titans used their trapped monster as a toy, creating life upon this planet to guarantee his forgotten tales stay forgotten. For eons, his very Moon watched the planet change and mourned at his pain. For eons he fought within his nightmare. For eons he anguished, but like his joy, even his pain must come to an end..."

Beady pupils lock furiously upon me.

"Haze consumed my vision, but as it did, the voices of the Soul called to me, showing me the event of the dragons and the Demon Soul's creation. The event that brought to life a powerful item in the same way he was born. The event that tapped into powers the Dragons foolishly ignored…"

For a second time a chilly wind dances upon my flesh. The wind dulls the sounds of Skippy's expected docking. Beads of sweat freeze, their existence drawing my hairs to their ends, and building ice within my veins…

"The voices came, three telling me of what to come, and one begging for my aid. Three showed me a second vision, of Greymane and the dark beast that rose within a blackened chamber, while one cried silently. Three broke my spell, bringing me back to reality, forcing me to run from the tomb, while one, a man built of solid black, a being of pitch-black fire, called to me...in person..."

Anxiety, fear, all forms of anguish clutch my heart. They strangle strength and pummel my power. They sap my sanity and trample my tenacity. And with his final words…my body grows numb…

"_Go, mortal, tell this world that I have awoken! Tell this planet that its master no longer stirs within his nightmare! Tell Azeroth…Vengeance is at hand."_

Ominously he speaks the last words as the ship comes to a stop.

"_And tell them...it shall be released from its tomb…by the spade of a gravedigger!"_


	24. Chapter 22: Madness

**_"Dreams. Dreams: the source of true inspiration. The drive to the lover's whims. The fuel to the inventor's whimsy. Dreams: bringers of hope and courage. Without them, you are left shallow, empty, and stranded to embrace the world as it truly is: a…nightmare…"_**

**_Lothar as he descended upon Karazhan._**

* * *

"You little, fat rat!" Nathanos thrashes to his sides wildly, becoming a teeter-totter as Brann becomes the focal point to his movement. "What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!"

Yelling at the tiny man as he shakes him violently, his actions become resembling of a gnomish paint-shaker: wild and sporadic with lots of vibrating.

"Lad….lad…I…didn't…leave…anything…." Brann dares speak, but the movements leave him broken.

"Shut your face! Don't you come bearing logic, you miniature satyr! Why did you wait until now to tell us this, dwarf?"

Marris lessens his assault, "You couldn't have, oh, you know, notified us earlier on how a being of stupidly-ridiculous strength is skipping his way from hellfire to come lather us in pain."

All shaking stops. Brann, however, is still stuck in post-tramautic Nathanos beating mode.

"Oh! And don't you forget the part where we have what he wants is with us, and he only is going to drive us insane from fear to get it. Nothing too terrible." He pauses briefly to let the next word's true power seep in, "Unless you already have an terrifying idea of something truly horrific! LIKE ME!"

Once again, he continues to rattle Brann. All rage and determination goes into this rather disturbing motion of torture. To add upon this spectacle, not a single soul upon this ship does a thing to quell the undead's fury; of course, if you really had any idea of whom you were dealing with, then I guess it makes more sense…

"Mon," Tok apparently doesn't know of whom, "Stop dis, mon. Dis just be crazy…"

Instantly, Nathanos ceases shaking, twists in his spot, and pulls one shoulder to face the troll. Moving swiftly, he makes a slow rolling of his arms before leaning forward. Then, like a pitcher, he pulls Brann close to his chest, looks to his sides, draws the man backwards and then hurls the dwarf…like an oversized baseball.

In a blur, the little being becomes a projectile of fury, and equally as hastily, becomes a blunt force trauma for a troll…

"I have had enough of your insidious crafting, troll!"

Nathanos shouts in his follow-up stance, keeping it for future reference as the dwarf bounces off of Tok, spins three times, and falls down into Saylem's arms. Good catch…

"You are out!" He leans backwards again, "I hope that knocked some sense into you, troll!"

Tok stumbles briefly before promptly rooting himself in a rather spread stance. Dusting himself off, he makes his person presentable as he rises to an upright position once more. A rather perturbed glaze coats the fine wrinkles of his face, and only intensifies as his vision drifts from his robes and to Nathanos.

" Mon…" he smacks his lips, tusks quaking gently, "…I never had a dwarf chucked at me before. Dat was knew."

"Oh, so you liked it? Toss him back, I will give it a second whirl."

"Mon, dat not be necessary." His brows lower, "Wat da ya want ta know, mon?

"What do I want…" he throws his hands in the air crazily, frustration evident, "…how about you tell me what we don't know, and I might not throw a human at you next!"

He lowers his arms, one shooting towards Tok, palm facing him, "Wait! No, we know how that game works. I am gonna be a focused man here, and go out and ask, no demand, you tell me who you are."

"Mon, I be Tok…"

"Shut it, troll! Your name is simply a title so that I can yell something other than troll when I speak to you! Who…are…you?"

The last three words come out sharply, fiercely, and angrily. He wants his answers, and I know that sound in his voice – he isn't going to stop raging until he gets something that suffices.

Tok flinches, drags his free hand across the other's sleeve, and makes to speak. However, before he begins, a rather dull thumping rings from nearby. Almost sounds like creaking wood. The dock?

"Me full name be Tok Fon. Me title be Grand Shaman." He reaches into the sleeve of his staffed arm, pulling from it a small, brown book, "And I…" he flips through the pages, searching for something, "I be…"

Swiftly, he comes to a page in the middle, places a finger on the internal spine. Calmly, he breaks a small fragment from his staff with the hand holding it, rolls the spine in his finger, and begins to…write? What in the world…

"Troll? The only thing you should be writing is your will…"

Tok smirks and promptly reattaches the spike and shoves the book back into his robes.

"Sorry, mon, ya got some nice liners." He clears his throat, a signal of what just occurred is to be forgotten, "Mon, in two months, I will be 54,432 years old. Give or take a year or two."

Nathanos' eyes narrow. As they do, I catch the thudding again, this time louder…

"Ah, yes, that reminds me of my 54'000 birthday. It was a cold day, a raw day…" he quickly ends his sarcastic tale with a grunt, "Troll, you are kidding, right?"

"No, mon. I be da first Shaman, da first troll ta eva exist. Da Titans demselves blessed me wit watch'n all me bruddahs. All me troll bruddahs." Oddly, he smirks, "Oh, and me sistahs. Tok does loves him some sistahs…"

"Troll! Are you mad?"

_Thud. _There! See, I heard it again.

_You are just hearing things. You need a hearing aid…_

Snickering rolls from the men standing above us – most likely King Greymane and his gigantic self. Nathanos pays no heed and continues ranting as awkwardly as the troll continues with his rather far-fetched story.

"Tok, you are obviously not that old. Trust me. I am a good judge of age: young, old, dead, not dead. Let me tell you that you are not fitting under the 'old' category. Dead, maybe, but not old."

"Mon, believe wat ya want ta..." _THUD, "..._believe, but ya got wat ya were looking for. Not ma'fault if ya be blind as ya are ugly."

_THUD. _Whatever that is, is getting closer…fast…

"Woah, don't you be bashing this face. Soon, it will be all the style. Oh, you know, just like when you were twenty and playing with the dinosaurs. Faceless was in then."

"Mon, da dinosaurs came much lattah done dat…"

"You are still going at this?"

_THUD._

"Ok, that is it, give me Wrynn," An arm shoots in Darion's direction, fingers rolling to notify the knight that he wants something, "I am going to throw royalty at him!"

To make this odd sight even odder, Wrynn appears, wielding what can only be described as part of the ship's railing. Rage clutching his face, he appears as if he is going to strike at Marris. The undead, of course, ignores him completely and makes to speak.

But Skippy is just too loud and screechy when he wants to be…

"YO!" I turn to see him pointing at something off the side of the ship, "That giant tree is walking on the dock! Didn't anyone ever tell him of wood's weight capacity?"

Really? Could this conversation get any weirder?

"Goblin, I warned you back in Northrend, but I will give you a reminder!" Nathanos shouts, "Don't do anything stupid, or I will eat you!"

Yeah, that will just about do it.

"No, really, take your pale peepers and look at tiny over there! He be smashing his dead brothers with his HUGE feet!"

Marris sighs, "Honestly, goblin, just because you have hallucinations of trees walking on other trees doesn't mean we all do."

Skippy flails at the wheel, his eyes and body fully expressing his severity. I know Skippy is not the sanest of creations, but this is just not like him. He normally just shouts a lot and makes not sense. Ok, maybe that is fitting here, but lying as well? I don't know…

"Shaman," A deep, raspy voice booms from overhead, "It has been too long."

With all haste, I whip my neck to the right, and let my disbeliefs fade into nothingness. For standing upon the wailing dock, is a lumbering monstrosity. Bulky feet end at gnarled toes crafted as uprooted roots. Tree-trunk legs – quite literally – are decorated in varieties of branches.

Moss clings fiercely to the legs, but fades out as the hearty torso leads to what can only be described as a tree canopy condensed as its core. A thick layer of leaves and branches almost make his chest appear furry. Extending from both sides are another set of tree-trunks, these ending at mangled, jagged spines that are its hands.

Upon its epicenter is large mound of underbrush and foliage. It is round, and speckled with a thin layer of flora of all sorts. Appearing from behind the thick covering and hearty bark, are a set of large, purple orbs. Its eyes. The beast has no neck, or that which is, is hidden by a bulky gathering of leaves. Orange streaks mingle with amber blades for its long beard while emerald delights dance across all surfaces -- its flesh, if you will.

Skippy is no liar. That is…a giant…upright…tree…

"Ah, old friend, mon, where ya be all dese years? Last I see of ya, ya be marching into da forests of Ashenvale!"

Tok shouts cheerfully; if not out of true excitement then out of desire for a subject change from prior events.

The mixture of leaves upon his face – the epitome of Fall's craft – shakes, breaking at the center to reveal a large mouth.

"Forgive me, Shaman." He pauses briefly, "I do offend with my absence."

"Mon, where ya been? Better yet, how did ya get down here?"

There is a brief silence followed by a deep, long, drawn-out, sigh from the tree.

"I walked. I walked a long walk." Leaves quake as the tree shifts in his spot. Purple orbs dance across the deck, hunting, "For the winds gave this Wandering Ancient a purpose."

Curling fingers roll into mighty, wooden fists. They tense momentarily before releasing, leaving each digit to flicker individually.

"Gusts tickled my beard, each one guiding me. Breezes enveloped my body, each one motivating my once lost soul." His eyes continue sweeping each passenger, "They told me…to find a mortal. To find a man as forgotten and as lost as I."

Debris rains gently from his mouth; fragments of wood and loose leaves sent tumbling downwards. Creaking bark sings gentle melodies as the beast twists his head upon his shoulders. It is then, as his eyes lock upon myself and his body becomes tranquil, that he has found what he is looking for…

"To find…Hope."

A massive arm lifts skywards. Rolling outwards, a spiny finger extends for me. His arm oscillates side to side, its weight apparent.

"Young one, my vision is poor. Come, let this aged beast see where his destiny lies…"

Instantly, the entire crew turns to gaze upon me. Great, the center of attention again. See, I don't mind tales of myself, but so many eyes fixated upon my body is just…bleh. Ok, Hope, just go to the giant tree. He seems nice enough. Yes, he may eat you, but I haven't found foliage to be predators. That and I do not believe this situation could get an odder...

_You really need to stop thinking and need to start walking._

Uncontrollably, my left catapults forward. Swiftly, my other follows and in seconds, I shoot across the deck, pass the pulsing eyes, and walk onto the rather bent, unstable looking dock.

It is there, in the shadows of the towering, organic construct, that I find a brief moment of peace; as if his very existence is calming, nurturing to my pained, torn being. It is there that I can almost feel the destiny he so speaks of…

"My word, you mortals get smaller every day," a rhythmic burst of deep rumbles roll from his chest. He is laughing. "Young one, it is an honor to finally meet you."

He shifts in his spot, his mighty legs becoming an arch over the dock below. The platform quakes gently, but is easily capable of bearing said weight. I glance up from his feet and peer into his large, purple orbs. For some odd reason, I almost feel as if I am staring at myself, at my very person, as I gaze upon this fellow.

"It is nice to meet you too, Mr. Tree."

Again he chuckles.

"Young one, you make this old fool feel as I once did tens of thousands of years ago."

I blink, letting my amazement seep through.

"Well, not to crush your mood, but I cannot even begin to fathom that in my imagination. It's hard enough to look back five years ago, let alone that many."

Lips curl to a smile.

"I do like the stylish beard, though." My hand instantly shifts to my chin and moves downward, fingers flickering as if I was stroking my own, imaginary beard.

A brief moment elapses before the beast leans backwards and begins to jiggle heartily. Bursting from his leave-covered lips are a loud, cheerful set of perfectly timed chuckles. I am rather happy he enjoyed that…

_You are rather sad you don't have a beard._

Well, kinda…

"Ok. OK!" A loud voice travels from my side and rumbles to my front exactly as an undead man appears in my vision. "This is too much for me. A time-lost troll, and a tree on a dock."

Swiftly he darts past me.

"Forget this, I am going to get a drink, and see if Jaina's sanity can cleanse mine of all of yours!"

"Huh?" My wisdom is let loose.

"Exactly, Worm. Now get to walking!"

"Um, yeah, sure." Once again, my profound self is revealed.

Hesitantly, I glance to Nathanos as he shoots down the dock. In seconds he comes to a fork that leads to various areas to port while one directs in to town. Of course, he faces down the path leading to the grand opening to the city. It is then that he turns his head to me and begins his mental, patience clock. You have seconds, Hope! Think fast!

Promptly, I throw my optics to the ship. Standing there is a pack of slack-jawed, baffled individuals. Two kings glare angrily at an undead menace, while an ignorant tool holds a whip-lashed dwarf in his arms. A troll stands his weight upon his gnarled staff while a large blue creature holds a tiny raptor upon his head. Above them stands a lone, old man, his concern unseen. Wait…where is the soldier?

"Worm!" Bah, time's up. "Don't make me come back and get you!"

Without turning, I draw a heavy pocket of sorrow into my lungs and calmly release it as best I can. Pivoting upon my heels, I shift from the ship and slip underneath the giant tree.

"Young one!" I throw my eyes upwards, catching sight of his downward peering orbs. "In my moment, I almost forgot." His dry, deep voice bellows gently. "The young mortals of this place seem disturbed. Be warned, their actions seem lost in these times."

"Um…?

What in the world does that mean?

Ok?"

"Oh, and…" he tilts upwards again, his eyes to the sea, "…I do believe I shall just wait here for your return. Much time passed since I began my trek upon this confounded disgrace of my brethren, and I do not wish to discover how I will get back to land quite yet."

He chuckles softly.

"Forgive me, young one."

A frown encompasses the void of my apparently sorrowed face, "Nothing to forgive. If anything, I shall give you my envy."

Rolling back to the dock, my eyes find the sight of a foot-tapping, impatient, faceless man – it scars the essence of my existence. Ok, Hope, you know what is going to happen if you do not get moving.

_You gonna get slapped!_

I gonna get slapped…

Catapulting forward, my legs begin the advance the rest of me so unwillingly wishes to partake upon. Why, you may ask, well, let me tell you…

_You didn't hear me ask…_

Well you are gonna hear it through anyway! Ahem, if you knew anything about this undead man – of whom I approach rather swiftly – then you would know this expression anywhere. He is one angry fool, and he is on a direct course of confrontation. Of what? No clue, but he will find someone, anyone, to beat upon at any given moment.

And as I pull to his side, I truly experience that reality full force…

_PHWACK_

Intense pain rolls across the back of my skull, ripples down my neck and nestles firmly in my quaking chest. A strange locking of muscles signifies that he just gave me the mightiest of strikes…

"Worm! You took way too long, and I had to wait way too long to do that."

Pivoting upon his heels, he aims for the oddly unguarded gapping pass that leads from the docks to the inner-city.

"Now come, we have a city to impress. And by _we_ I mean _me_. You are just here to make me look good."

He begins at a swift pace towards the city. Hesitantly, I peer backwards, taking in the sight of the crew disembarking the ship and passing by a large, stationary tree. They move rather sluggishly towards this "T" intersection that I stand upon, but I really don't blame them. In all reality, I am, in a sense, simply looking back at that which recently occurred. And, well, i do believe I can leave that behind as a time in my life I don't really want to remember..

"Worm?" Without looking, I move in his direction – I think, "Does this strike you odd?"

"Everything strikes me as odd, Marris. You know that?" I throw my vision at him. Oddly, I am forced to halt as I find his stationary person peering into the city. "Nathanos, what…"

"Where is everyone, Worm? I know people are not drawn to you, but they don't normally run. Yes, you may not be as ruggedly handsome as I, but you still don't stink that much."

"The only thing rugged about you, Nathanos, is that you look as if you shaved yourself too hard. A man's task, it is."

"No time for crazy talk, Worm, I am serious." His boney arm extends towards the two, bleach-white towers that loom at either end of the passage. "Not a single guard. No life…"

He squints.

"And this…" promptly he kneels, running his fingers across something etched into stone below him. "It is as if someone carved something into the path here."

Focused, keen optics sweep the etching while fragile fingers run the length.

"I believe it says…"

He pauses, letting me take in the sight for put a moment. The only thing I can make it out is the lone letter…

_N_

Instantly, he erects his stance. His shoulders roll backwards, obvious severity present. His head darts to one side then the other, the hunter eager and evident. His eyes focus, what he sees behind his reckoning. His posture…unnerving…

"Nathanos…"

He ignores me fully, letting the sights around him sink in. And I, as foolish as I can possibly be, take to his efforts fully Upon the wall to our left, just barely visible, is an odd set of scratches. From here, a few letters stand firmly for my sight…

_I_-_G-H-T_

Continuing in his motions, I throw my sights upon the wall to our right. Numerous symbols and markings are scribbled into the fine stone, as if done so out of haste…or fear. Once again, a few etchings, letters, are fully apparent…

_M-A-R-E_

Before I can dare speak what enters my mind, the wise undead whispers the word…

"Nightmare." He pivots towards me. "Someone scratched this word all over these walls, Worm."

An odd chill creeps down my spine as the once sarcastic fool is brought to an unpleasant reality. An disturbing call enters our mind as a voice booms across the vast terrain…

"Denizens of Theramore!"

The hunter locks his senses, bounding for the sound that rolls from a short distance away.

"Citizens of lost Lordaeron!"

It calls a second time. Now we have a target. Beyond this tiny courtyard, past the large gathering of abodes, is what we seek. And Nathanos knows it…

"Move it, you slack-jawed gnolls!" He calls to us all.

Stout buildings shoot past us. We round a short bend on to what appears to be a circular path that loops around a large, looming tower. Standing upon a large hill in the center of town, this same scouting structure is surrounded by a short in length, yet still tall wall. Like the rest of the city, the light-gray stones are bound together by a dark-gray mortar.

The only thing out of place amongst this structure is the rather odd black marks that are plastered upon the bricks. It is as if some sort of explosive hit and formed scorch ruins upon the finely molded building.

Suddenly and loudly booms forth the grand, commanding voice…

"Heroes of Kalimdor, the time is at hand!" His voice flutters upon the breeze, radiating as if everywhere yet its epicenter is clear. "The hour of hope has arrived, and with it, utter victory!"

Expecting uproar of excitement, of rallied people to follow, I find myself sadly misled by my own expectations. All of it is naught upon the calm winds of this time. All is silent. Swiftly he round the wall which surrounds the heart of this city. Hurriedly we draw to the outer fringes of the gathering.

And as we near them, the figures draped in black robes, an odd sense of familiarity fills my soul. As we bound into plain sight of the makeshift platform, surrounded by hundreds of people in black, their borders laced with purple, a discomforting surge of reckoning assaults my soul. They are the same men that were with Saylem back at Andorhal...

As we come to the site of the call, we can take in a lone figure standing upon the stage. Around his feet kneel a collection of figures – all of which seem to stare aimlessly into nothingness.

The sight is odd…creepy…almost.

_You said it…_

"Black as coal." A strange voice stammers from nearby. "Black as coal. Black as coal."

Instantly, my eyes dart to the bulge of the crowd nearest to us. It is there, pacing back and forth, that a strange man seems to ramble to himself. His eyes lock with the path he is is carving with his oscillating movement. Matted hair drapes his sweat coated brow, while curled fingers point to the heavens – each one layered with thick, black soot.

"Black as coal." Pockets of dark dust drop from the pitch-black ash that runs up his forearm. "Black as…"

He stops, pivots, and makes to turn back the opposite route. However, as his tilted head turns in our direction, he catches sight of a rather fleshless figure.

"You!" Sweat beads roll down his brow. "You have to help me!"

The figure stumbles as he rushes towards us, desperation lurking behind his every movement.

"Help me!"

Nathanos watches the figure drunkenly wobble for him. He moves hastily and with panicked determination. He does so at a near jog, and as he nears Nathanos, it becomes apparent he isn't going to slow…

"HELP ME!"

A dull smack radiates from the two as the crazed man slams into Marris. The two stagger rearwards. Our lunatic slips from his feet, the stable commander bracing the two of them. Eerily, Nathanos' new friend climbs up the tattered vest, clawing feverishly at the cloth.

"She needs my help! My girl needs my help!"

He rolls Marris' shirt into balls within his mangled fists.

"She is going to drown. She is going to drown!" His words break, fear dressing their design. "I cannot swim! Help me!"

Words evade the normally blunt being. Lipless jaws sunder, yet no words escape the bemused maw. All the undead man can do is gaze wonderingly into the hollowed sockets. All the undead can do is peer into the anomaly that should be the man's eyes. All he can do is gawk at the solid, black ellipses that should bear some white, some color.

But…the man's eyes are completely black…

"Over here!" Dragging himself to his feet, the man grows suddenly motivated. "Come, you can save her!"

Releasing his grip, he shoots from the confused commander, rushes to the wall near us, and points at a standard, gray…brick…

"Here, all I need to do is reach for her hand! All you need to do is stop her from floating from me!" He nods, a smile forming upon his face. "Yes! We will save…her…"

The meager joy that had began to spread vanishes. His lips curl back to the demeanor he greeted us with. Sorrow grasps his soul while stress strangles his mind. Matter hair slides across his face as he stares back at the ground.

"Black as coal…"

As I stare at the man lost in his own mind, my heart pumps a melody of sympathy and empathy. Muscles tighten to a sorrowed, expanding chest. All I wish to do is aid this poor figure, but…I don't think I can. I don't think I know how. I just…don't…know…

"Amazing, isn't it?" My head twists uncontrollably; the sudden call from the platform all but distracting. "Amazing the blessing I can bestow upon my children."

The figure upon the stage stares upon us.

"Splendid. Marvelous. All words pathetic in the name of my design."

Footsteps quickly heighten and fall as figures close in from behind. Our crew has finally arrived.

"Fantastic that you gentlemen could finally join us!" The man throws one arm in the air, intensifying his sarcastic yet serious statement. "I have been waiting…"

His arm lowers. Descending with it all excitement, all motivation, all joy. What remains is a dark, deep call…

"For an eternity."

"Who are…"

Nathanos is barely able to speak before the man quiets him, "Questions are useless, my boy. Just hold firm as my words rain upon your naïve minds!"

He claps oddly.

"So where. oh. where shall I begin? So much time apart, so much time spent as separated entities!" A smirk forms upon his twisted face. "Oh, I do believe I know the perfect prelude to suit such a scaled moment…"

Pivoting feet realign for the figure kneeling at the front of the stage. As he moves, a discomfort rolls across my chest…

"Mortality: the frail yet perfect fixed variable amongst a swirling conglomeration of uncertain pieces. Its definition being simplistic, exact, and guaranteed." Wood creaks as he nears the individual. "Short periods of existence filled with darkness and illumination."

He stops at the figure's side.

"Brief elapses designed for nothing more than subtle, blind discoveries." Knees break and the figure lowers to squatting, "Blind being the ultimate flaw amongst all the imperfections stated."

Sleek, strong fingers roll towards the kneeled man's hood.

"Metaphorically or literally, it doesn't matter." A lock is formed between flesh and cloth, "In the end, all mortality knows nothing but mindless wandering."

Once again, a smirk sweeps his expression…

"And that is where I intercept. That is where I…arrive to deliver upon my children my blessing."

Menacingly, he rips the folded fabric from the person's head. Golden strands waft backwards and drift downwards. Soft, pale flesh glistens as the clouded light rolls across its surface. Bright, red lips sparkle beneath a pair of utterly black orbs…

"Jaina Proudmoore." He drags his face to the side of her head, his breath pushing against her elegant hair, "Young, beautiful…human."

A sinister face tilts in our direction, narrowed eyebrows bring malicious deeds to his mangled smirk.

"She is far superior to any standard mortal. Oh, not due to her own natural features, but for reasons beyond reckoning!"

Swiftly, he uprights, turning to us and raining upon our ears excited tones. One cannot help but listen intently…

"For you see when I bestow upon you my blessing then you see what makes you weak. You gain vision of what smothers your existence, what hampers your progression towards perfection! My blessing draws forth your undoings so you realign them!"

Once again, my chest tightens, and my edges of my vision blur. I make to focus upon these random occurrences, but I must hear his words…

"However, this bountiful beauty sees only reality, sees nothing original to her normal scenes. She sees only her exact moment at hand; she thinks of nothing that does not consistently onslaught her gorgeous mind."

He looks at her.

"Her father dead at her feet. A mentor buried amongst the ruins of the reconstructed – lost in time to heroes able. And a lover…the greatest of villains, most sinister of plotters, the most malicious of crafters. He too…gone…"

His eyes redirect for us.

"She lives out my blessing…every…waking…moment." Once again, the dark demeanor reemerges. With it, a horrible throbbing upon my chest.

"Her reality is…a constant…nightmare…"

Suddenly, the world quakes. A white flash blinds my vision before all before me seems to stretch before whipping back into normality. Recoiling, all illusions are lost to a thick, greenish-gray haze. All those around me vanish, yet the buildings remain. All the people have faded, but…the town still exists…

Even in this horrid place, I know that is wrong.

Oddly, the corners of my vision shake again, the signs of my departure. But why so soon? Why so abruptly? What in the world is going on? And why in the world do I suddenly care?

You are asking a lot of really odd questions for a worm…

I blink and sigh. At least it got me away from him…

"She could be my perfect soldier." My heart sinks as the voice still beckons to me. "She could turn cities to ash, blink entire armies to a watery grave. And she needs not my blessing to achieve such greatness…"

Fearful orbs roll in nervous sockets. Neck muscles lock, unable to witness the apparent. A bony cage rattles on top of a rumbling drum of anxiety. This cannot be real…

"A general beyond generals, yet…still…lacking in all forms of perfection."

My eyes lock upon that which I knew waiting…upon a figure born of pitch…black…flames…

"I come for you, gravedigger…"

Eyes crafted of fires darker than that which can only be described as utter darkness pierce into my soul. They assault my existence and barrage my being. It is almost as if his very gaze pains me…

Alas, as I look onward, the edges of my reality pulse, flicker, and the once abundant haze disappears. All figures return; the robed figures, the undead to my side, and the man upon the stage. The same man, who's eyes are upon mine and my mine are upon his. The same man who stands precisely where the dark figure did…

He chuckles a deep, raspy, menacingly laugh…

"Alas, for all those before me, such a feat of true sight is not gained so easily, or discovered so perfectly." Arms are thrown to the sky, as if proclaiming to the heavens. "Here, my children, let me grant upon you my blessing!"

One final time…the dark smirk returns…

"Let me grant you...sight through…vengeance's eyes…"

I make to move, I make to run, but what occurs is only describable as horrific and inevitable. The man...appears as if he explodes, his flesh bursting from his frame. Each construct of human design molds into dark flames, while a cone of black firesweeps like a shockwave from his person.

A wall of shadows rolls from his body, tumbles across the robed crowd, and sweeps across my person in a mere moment. An intense chill caresses my body. A frosty touch draws hairs to their ends and fear to its limits.

Screams dare escape a jarred jaw, but there is no time for shouts, for yells. There is no time to flee, to escape what has just occurred. There is simply darkness that slowly envelops the vision, creeping in from the sides and drawing inward. It is as if a inquitious cone is consuming all that is holy and blocking back all sight.

Yet, as I stand, lost in what just occurred, I can see upon the stage a man. No, a figure. Black flames roll from his being, while impossibly darker eyes stare back. A man of pitch…black…flames.

In a flash, he is lost to a world of darkness, to a universe as dark as night, as sinister as the shadows and as black as…

As black as…coal…


	25. Chapter 23: The Nightmare

_**"I see...only darkness...before me..."**_

_**Arthas Menethil's last words.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Angel?" A distantly familiar, sweet melody of a call flutters across my mind. "Sweet angel, get dressed, and I will serve you breakfast."

The beautiful chime is interrupted by a muffled, rhythmic burst of harsh winds – coughs.

"Come on, Sweetie, that will cheer you up."

Once more she coughs before a door screeches mildly. The air hangs still. Then, slowly, hesitantly, the yelp of mistreated hinges is emitted followed by a set of delicate footsteps.

Not this dream again…

Tiny, youthful fingers slide back a rather heavy, wool wrap. Calmly, yet nervously, I push the covering from my person and throw my legs over the side of the bed. Sighing, I look down to my infantile limbs and think of what is to come.

My little hands lower, forming a cup as each one descends to the thigh below it. Applying a mild amount of pressure, I make to escape into my thoughts, but a rather peculiar tingle wafts from where my palms touch my legs. That is strange, that feels rather…sensitive…

It feels…almost real…

Removing the disturbed hands from the fine, linen garments, I face my tiny palms towards me. Wandering orbs dance across the surface of each patterned surface. They look like they always had, but the sensations…

"Angel!" A barrage of muffled coughs rain after, "Angel, come get it before it gets cold!"

My eyes roll in their sockets, drifting to the door of my room. All of this just seems so odd. Even though I have been here a dozen times, this particular event is just different. The air from my lungs runs the gauntlets of my nostrils – each puff stroking the nerved strands within. Curling fingers flinch, drawing tingles across their crinkling folds.

So...real…

"Hope! Hurry up…" coughs, "you are gonna…" more coughs, "be…late…"

Clanking pots and shattering glasses rain from the kitchen. This I remember. Swiftly, I throw the covers from my path, forget the distractions of old, and sprint towards…

Ow!

Stumbling, I land awkwardly upon the sealed blocker. Adjusting myself, I turn to see a toy upon the floor, its edges the obvious culprit to my agony. Without thinking further, I grasp the rather cold, clammy knob, and…wait…did that hurt?

Forget it, Hope. Go do what must be done!

With all force able, I jerk the wooden barricade, yet, unlike usual, it lags greatly. It is far heavier than I imagine. The muscles in my arms seem almost strained…as if the door is just too much…

Phew, finally! Pushing past the rather aggravating piece of wood, I dart into the kitchen. Frosty chills climb from the soles of my feet and up my ankles – the tile icy to the touch. As usual, I throw my sight to the small sink to the side of the room to find the still traumatizing scene of my worst fears…

Slumped against the smooth, silky stone is my mother. Around her is fractured kitchenware, but that is insignificant. Filling my soul is a fierce form of anxiety and fear. But beneath is a strong confidence that I know to well. I will save you, mom! I will save you like…I…always…have…

Strangely, as I move across the room, the strength is sapped from my person. I like I am running, but…but it is if I am standing still. The table passes my side, taller than myself, yet…she seems so far away. It is now that a horrible chill travels down my spine.

A heart raps a menacing melody. Lungs fill and collapse like forge pumps. Air rips and thrashes upon the edges of my throat – winded fully. No matter the pace, no matter the intensity…I cannot reach her. What feels like miles pass, yet she is beyond my reach…

Panic creeps across the back of my mind…

"Mother!" I cannot help but yell, "Your Hope is here! Your angel is coming!"

Panting, worn...tired...but I must get to her! Tile after tile passes beneath my tiny feet. She is so close, but this path I run takes me nowhere near her. Try harder, you ninny! Try harder!

"Mom, reach out your hand!" The walls of the room appear as if stretched, a corridor of my own horrors, "Give me your hand!"

Sweat piles upon my brow. Drops drizzle across my forehead. They follow tight paths towards the narrow passages on the sides of my eyes. Even as they find their target, stinging painfully, I cannot get my mind off my mother. The pain, the strain, the fear…none of it means nothing!

"Mom, I will help you!" I pant heavily, "…Mom…"

She is so close…I cannot give up. I cannot even as fear, terror, and all forms of trauma begin taking control.

"Mom!"

The once panging prick of my ignorable panic becomes a full force of unrelenting fury. It becomes…all I know, all I can embrace. She is so close! I must save her!

"MOM!

Suddenly, my legs lock, and I stumble forward. I keep upon my feet, but all my courage fades. Standing, I stare upon the coughing agonized form of someone dear to me. All strength naught, all motivation slaughtered. Tears surface on the corners of my eyes. Despair settles in.

I can…cannot save her…

"Mom…forgive...me"

Distraught, I gaze upon her suffering. Broken, I embrace the world as it is. I am no more than the shell of a boy. I am no more than the tiny, weak form that stands here. I am no more than that…

And as I stare, the world grows dark; all edges of reality becomeblackened. And as I stare, I am left alone with all that I deserve…

All grows dark…as…coal…

"For an eternity, your expression now is all I could shelter." A malicious call envelops my person. "Sorrow, anguish, disbelief – all encompassing the single factuality of it all. You failed the one you loved."

Ahead, movement stirs as the deep beckon booms on.

"And as you stand here now, worn after one encounter, you cannot dare imagine the fatigue of a million occurrences."

Purplish orbs burn darker than the solid wall of black around me.

"She called my name and I cried hers. She begged for savior, and heroism was all I could afford. She suffered while I endured."

A sinister outline can be made out amongst the shadows…

"It was my greatest fear. It was my worst torture." I can make him out fully, the figure of black flames, "It was…"

My eyes know only him. My focus aligns for only him. My fear…is born from only him…

"…My worst nightmare…"

A bright flash forces my lids shut. Sparks of unseen illumination dance upon my covered eyes – the intensity beyond my stamina. Then, as quickly as they appeared, the lights fade to a mild, warm tingle. It is like a weak source of light is blocked from its full potential. Like the sun to the clouds…

Carefully, nervously, my seals separate and let in the light. Around me stand the same structures that I knew only briefly before the darkness. To my right stands a tall wall before a giant tower. To my sides rest the slumped figures that I know too well, each one fast asleep. Each one twitching, flinching, and flailing within their own nightmares…

"They made me watch her suffer…every…single…day." The once raging inferno of a call fades to a calm, disheartened whisper. "I had to hold her, watching her life fade from her person, yet never truly extinguishing."

Optics shift upwards, consuming the man born of fire. However, as he speaks now, his fires are weak, mere trickles of a once greater darkness.

"The agony stretched on limitlessly. The torment burned endlessly. The nightmare dragged on every moment. That was until…he…discovered the veil to his existence."

Flames flicker more intensely.

"My greatest soldier. My most glorious of champions. My most inspirational of legends. My…Earth Warder." Slivered eyes narrow upon my existence as if to guarantee my attention, "Deathwing, as he is known now, woke me from my unyielding thrashing to a reality I could not dare comprehend."

One long, pulsing leg drags forward. Another follows in suit, the flames of his creation dragging upon the wind as it does.

"But he was plagued by beings that intrigued me from the moment I dare glimpsed them --Tiny, fleshy insects, crafted in a fashion only suiting of someone as marvelous as me. And as I watched the incursions between the two entities, I was brought sheer amazement. My grandest of soldiers, most glorious of champions, was assaulted…by…"

Closer now, he spans the full vertical view of my vision.

"My…own…creations."

A heavy, dense, brackish foot slams within yards of me. My lungs grow numb. Palpations beneath my bone cage become lost within the oscillating flames. It is equivalent to starring into space…yet no stars to brighten the view…

"My own creations!" Terrified eyes drift upwards, the humanoid monster tilting his head for a view of the man before him, "Oh, how wonderful a day. To know that my mere, quasi-plot had flourished into a grand scheme beyond my own, godly recollection."

His torso is all that can fit in my sight. Board, fluttering shoulders give the figure an ominous appearance. An expressionless, faceless…face…builds mystique and shroud to his piercing sight.

"I had to have them. I had to plunge into their plane, so that they would be ruled within mine!" He shifts to his side, drawing my head with him. "And thus, those willing to see, those willing to embrace the darkness, the shadow, …the Twilight…donned the proper garments and brought this world a sequence of events unlike anything ever imagined!"

Halting, he pivots, peering fiercely upon me.

"They crafted a world of war, secretly marched within the universe's burning crusade, and relished in the ignorance of the jaded wrath. They brought this world seven…long…years. Beginning the moment that foolish Greymane gave to me the final power I needed for ascension."

Slowly, he draws downwards…his aura menacing, agonizing, horrifying.

"Ah yes, everyone seems to have forgotten that behemoth of an imbecile. Everyone seems content ignoring the grand part he played in this plot, but yet…" his vision diverts, "He would be no use to you. His mind is simple and blank. If he could even dare recall that than the marvel I would emit could fill the seas."

Eyes lock upon me once again.

"If only you could recall the players of that time...then you could know the answers…"

Oddly he pauses, as if to cue me of something…

"But enough of my diversions, back to the story at hand!" He claps his flame-built hands, a collision of ashen pillows if you can dare imagine those sights and sounds, "But he was not the last fleshy creation to take part in this story."

Fires burn fiercely…

"A man dared enter my domain. He snuck past my guardians and came within feet of person! Like his mother, the one that sparked his life, the monster had come to end my reign before it could ever begin!"

One arm raises, the moment intensified…

"But like my love, he failed." It lowers, acting as a fuel to the now roaring flames. "It was with this man, this night elf, that I relished upon my first act before my freedom. I…bestowed upon him…my blessing…I gave to what the Titans gave to me. The Nightmare."

Dark, strangulating eyes siphon the life from me…

"Just as I had stirred within my own mind, Malfurion Stormrage did his. His cries filled the air, just as mine did the skies. His tears formed pools just as mine built seas. And his heart was drained…just as mine became the shadows…"

His very existence requires all strength, all courage to withstand. It is as if death itself stands before me. He makes the Lich King feel as if a child…

"Malfurion took to my blessing with grand success! Even now, as his companions draw him to safety, to a place they think I cannot dare reach, his once calm, nurturing spirit has been warped to suit that of myself. Even now, as the time draws near, he loathes my existence, despises my actions and yearns for my destruction"

Chills caress my body.

"He fills his soul with what he feels righteous. All his intentions aligned for one goal, one end." He draws near, "He hungers…for vengeance…"

Inching closer, his face fills the span of all sight…

"My blessing…was…a success…"

It is unbearable…

_You must do something! You must act before his sight consumes you! You…must…speak!_

"Why?" Air is as slivers of bladed ice, "Why do you tell me this?"

So hard to breath, so hard to focus. Yet, as the words stumble from my lips, they are coherent enough to draw thought into the being. And so his narrowed eyes focus…

"Because, gravedigger, you are the final piece to this puzzle. You are the individual that I have been hunting. You are…the perfect soldier. And I must…have…you…"

"You are no…different…than…the Lich…King…" Each word more difficult to release than the last.

A barrage of harsh, agonizing bursts roll from his mangled, black chest.

"Ha! That, gravedigger, is where you are wrong. Unlike that fool of a creation, I do not assume that my sheer existence will lead you to me and to victory. No, unlike his blind actions, I came to you. And unlike his half-wit attempts at subduing your raging, rebellious soul, I already have you where I want you…"

Flickering flames thrash wildly…

"And with my touch, with my blessing, you shall see just as so many others have. You shall see the true path. You shall only see…vengeance."

He makes to draw closer, yet he halts. Holding firmly, he seems to flinch as if something has stricken him.

"Come, gravedigger, open your mind! Open your soul!" Spires of fire whip backwards as if fleeing from something…"Let the grave revelations of your existence burn into you the righteous path!"

Purplish orbs align while pitch-black flames dance…as if escaping…me…

"Let the darkness guide you! Let the shadows lead you! Let vengeance…mold you into perfection! Embrace the Nightmare, so that you too can know the means to my glorious ends!"

A menacing figure rains upon a mere spec of a man fury unlike anything ever dared imaginable. A malicious beast assaults an insignificant figure with rage never thought amassable. A dark monster confronts a being of utter…light…

Smiling, a foolish thought crosses my mind. I have done it a dozen times. It cannot be that bad. You cannot fail Tok now.

_You wouldn't…_

"Forgive me, Enluzen, but…I like the way I look." Confidence fuels me, despite the stuttering presentation. "You will just have to take me…as is…"

Dark purple eyes widen just as I expected. Before he can react, I catapult arm upward, slamming my palm firmly into…the…jaw…

Instantly, black flames strike, descending across my forearm in mere seconds. Devouring my arm in a flash, the immense darkness clouds my vision. It is not cold. It is not warm. Flames wrap around my neck. All feeling fades. So…dark…

The beast gazes as my jaw sunders. This is it. This is the end. Fires span my chest, yet creep across the lower portion of my maw. The sensation is indescribable. It is…simply…darkness. It is if I am embracing every moment before falling asleep…endlessly...

This is it…

He is furious, yet bewildered. He is enraged, yet lost. Shadows jade the corners of my sight. His eyes still tell the tale. I am lost in the shadows. Wide eyes. Darkness.

Yeah, I know that expression. For years, it was all I could shelter. Darkness crawls into my ears. Enjoy confusion, you jerk…

"BE GONE, FOUL BEAST!" A distant, aged voice rolls upon the winds. "YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE!"

Suddenly, the world quakes before the man of pitch-black flames fades from sights. A barrage of sensation fills my person, the bond between us broken. My head tilts backwards, weightless. Eyes lock upon a black creature being whipped into the air by a giant tree…

Warmth returns.

Swiftly, the dark figure is sent shooting downwards.

A harsh, agonizing pain assaults my stomach.

Stones shatter as Enluzen is slammed into the path around me.

I fall forward, palms catching me. Uncontrollably, I let my mouth open, and I begin to…vomit…walls of thick, black clouds. The feeling is horrific; like spewing sand.

The torment ceases after a brief moment, allowing for my eyes to drift upwards in time to watch vengeance fly across the skies before colliding forcefully with the stone wall before me. A dull thud rings while the world quakes. Appearing my sight is a large tree trunk…

"Young one, this monster will do no more harm!" The Wandering Ancient…the protector…calls down to me. "Fear not…"

"YOU FOOL!" A black sphere ripples across the skies before exploding overhead. "What you do now means nothing! The gears have been set in motion. I…will…be…freed!"

Rage spews as heavily as the next darkened sphere. Once again, a mighty rumble signifies a collision. Once again, the world quakes and the trunk vanishes. He is stumbling backwards.

Suddenly, a massive, green orb flies from my side. A flashing spectacle of sparking emerald, teal, and intermingling white encircle the dark being. He does not seem phased, however, as he makes to counter. But the next gentle plucks and raging calls seem to draw him…

"Only one man here knows how to induce torture, monster!" Arrows rain as fiercely as the man's undead voice. "Nathanos Marris Blightcaller will enjoy your suffering, you beast!"

My left arm gives way as Darion lurches forward. Mild pains ripple across the sides of my skull as it hits the ground, but they are nothing to the ever-creeping darkness that will not yield. All my limbs feel numb – devoid of all life.

Yet my eyes still know full function…

"Mon, ya will be banished back ta da darkness!"

Tok hurls streaked bolts of arching blue and white. Each strike sends the beast stumbling backwards. Each arrow that follows sends him into cowering. Each green ball bashes him into submission. All of them…send him into fleeing.

"Fear now, creations, your actions are all for naught!" He releases a volley of shadowy orbs, countering all incoming strikes. "You cannot stop the events. You cannot stop…the Cataclysm! You cannot stop my return!"

And in a display of molding darkness and twisting shadows, the ultimate being of darkness descends into the ground. He is gone…yet it is far from over...

"Where do you cowards think you are going?" An enraged King of Stormwind bellows. "You twilight pansies, I will show you to defile this city!"

Just barely, I am able to drag my wrapped vision upward to see what is occurring. Wrynn chases fleeing, robed figures fiercely. Doors to nearby dwellings sunder as dazed and confused denizens are awoken from their nightmares. As they make it back into the streets, the King shouts to them, and with all the revenge all they know, they pursue willingly.

It would seem…his blessing truly is…successful…

"You poor thing!" An unfamiliar voice, yet gentle voice calls to me, "Here, drink this! Quickly!"

I find myself rolling over, and find a set of welcoming arms lifting my lips towards a bowl filled with pungent fluids. Uncontrollably, the liquid is sent down my throat, passing my tongue horribly as it does. Bleh, even my mangled mind finds this a worse torture…

"There, that should help you."

My eyes drift towards the womanly figure as best they can. Flickering, darkened edges of sight expand slowly, filling my person with intense nausea and pain, yet a strong numbing sensation still envelops all…

"How does that feel?"

Blond hair drapes her beautiful face. Freckles dance across her soft, elegant cheeks. A smile molds below it. She is not Jaina. She, actually, does not strike me familiar…wait…

"Do you think you can walk? If I can get you to my house, we can get you better care." She looks backwards at something I can not see, "Its over there, right by the inn."

The angel looks back to me…I know her…

"The doctor trained me, no worries dear." Her smile is…amazing. It alone is enough to explain why the Captain loved her so much. "Please, respond if you can hear a thing I am saying…please…"

She is elegant, gorgeous – everything resembling that of true beauty. Yet, as I stare upon all that is her glamour, an unmistakable surge of frosty nothingness smothers what little sensation remains. As I stare…the boundaries of my reality blur…images of another time and place emerging amongst that which is now…

A woman appears – the exact same woman as the one that stares down at me now. She stands near a dock, tears caressing the fine lines of her youthful face. Sails rustle upon a small, yet hasty craft. Loose clothing drapes the numerous crew, but her eyes only align for one man. For the one man behind a sleek, new wheel. For…the captain.

Her captain.

She doesn't want him to go. Her eyes speak a thousand truths while her lips release none. He stares back upon her, his world only for her, but the obvious impossibilities of it all barricading them into segregation. Sails catch the wind as the two gaze helplessly upon each other. Slowly, reluctantly, painful, the ship glides from the wooden dock.

But she doesn't want him to depart. Shoes slap the dry planks beneath her. She runs, but the boat is already making to sea. She runs, but her arms do not reach. She runs, but she will never catch him. She runs, but her captain, her Cappy, will never hold her again. It is there, upon the wooden bridge that a woman peers helplessly at her greatest fear. It is there she embraces…

Her nightmare…

Instantly, the short scene subsides, leaving behind her teary, agonized face. She is so beautiful. So beautiful, but the pain she feels riddles her face with age. So beautiful, yet so…much…agony.

Her expression, her apathetic, yet obviously troubled demeanor reminds me of only one person, of only one woman. Sylvanas. Her hair flows as elegantly as Sylvanas'. Her supple lips gleam as if Sylvanas'. Her skin glistens…as does Sylvanas' when the the woman is in my arms…

I miss her so much. She is not even mine, but I can see her. I can feel her. But…but she hates me. Every fiber of my existence draws rage into her average anger. I will never hold her the way I want. I will never see the dream of dreams play through. It is just…a dream…

A rush of unbelievable pain snaps my back into an arch – my chest a cusp in the air. Pain ripples across the top of my skull as it slams into the ground. She will never be mine. It is a dream.

A deep, sinister voice, still so fresh upon my memory, barks in the back of my mind…

_And only nightmares await you now…_

"NO!" My shoulders curl backwards, moving towards the portion of my head that is grinding across the stone. "I will have her. I LOVE HER!"

_Gravedigger, you cannot escape your destiny…_

"Get out of my head!" I cannot stop screaming…"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

_You need to fight it._

The two voices collide within my fevered mind…

_The time for resistance is over. You will lead me to the final key, gravedigger. I shall be ridden of my last bond! I shall be unburdened of my final shackle!_

_You must ignore it!_

"Stop speaking! Both of you! STOP!"

_You will not live out his dark plans!_

_I…will…be…freed…_

Dull thuds radiate near my head, but they are mere blips upon the radar that is my torture. The world flashes, images of incomprehensible scenes playing: fires, demons, monsters, robed figures…all haunting my sight. All of them burning my reality into one truth, into one revelation. I am living…a nightmare…

"Worm!" Nathanos calls, but he sounds so distant. "Stop screaming, you ninny! You are…worm?"

He acts as if he has just seen me…

"HOPE!"

Even my best friend ignores me at all times. I truly am nothing.

_You mustn't think that!_

The only thing that will talk to me doesn't even exist. He is but a voice in my head.

_You must be strong…_

Nathanos skids into sight, pushing the young woman delicately from my side. He treats a stranger better than me. He doesn't care. My back jerks downwards, slapping the stone below me. I am lying flat again, my vision a slideshow of horrors.

"Hope, look at me." His hollowed eyes lock with mine. He is just barely visible through the passing images. "Hope, your skin…your veins…are pulsing…"

He blinks from sight as a giant man of stone flickers into vision. Quickly his fleshless face reappears.

"Hope. Hope!" Undead, you need to speak up. "Look at me."

Foolishly, he brings his hands to the side of my head…

Vanishing from sight, he leaves behind the image of a rotten field. Trees, twisted and mangled, hold firmly before a set of rolling hills encompassing a set of grand, gray walls. A man stands near a small house where a figure lies. I am a good distance away…

Slowly, I creep forward, the two becoming clearer each second. Our man peers despairingly upon the limp figure upon the brown, decaying dust. Closer now, I still cannot make out either, but it is now certain that the individual on the ground is a woman – her long, brown hair matting the grass.

Yards away, I can almost make out the man, but suddenly, he draws a thick, dark hood over his face. He is blocked from all sight and all knowledge. However, as the scene encompasses my vision my heart sinks. For lying in the dirt, tranquil and peaceful, is someone I never dare imagine…

She no longer twitches nor cries. She no longer calls to me her sweet voice nor coughs that horrendous cough. She sleeps now, life but a distant memory. It is my mother…

What is happening? Why is she there? Why?

Haze wipes my optical slate clean, bringing me back to the bitter reality I know too well. Sadly, oscillating images plague me still. Once again, anguish grips my soul. Where did she go? Uncontrollable panic fuels my body…

"Mom, wake up!" My left hand rockets upwards, gnarled fingers clawing at the sky, "Get up!"

Get up! Why won't you get up?

_You know she is gone…_

"Shut up!"

"Worm…" Nathanos releases his grip and twists towards the unseen, "Tok. Tok!"

Flashes of my smiling mother blink. Emotions stir within, each one clashing with the other. Stop showing me this. Her cough rolls across the back of my skull. Stop it! Get it out of my head!

"Mon, wat…" the troll appears, "mon…"

"What, troll, what?"

"Mon…da nightmare… got him…but he aint sleep'n." Wide eyes signify nothing good. "He ain't…sleep'n…"

"Troll, what in the world does that mean? Should I knock him cold?"

Tok blinks, once twice, "No, mon."

He seems lost in what he sees – lost in me.

"To da ship, mon." Determination returns fully, "To da ship!

Their voices seem to fade with each word. My vision sinks backwards, as if caving into my own skull. Fear crushes all sense of strength and anxiety. Make it stop…

A weak pressure is applied to one arm and then the other…

Following briefly, is another horrific scene. Please not another one. Please…

Sadly, it is impossible to stop. It is impossible to ignore the field of darkness, and the one figure amongst it. It is impossible to ignore the single, teal man floating open the tides of shadows. It is impossible to ignore Tok…and the words that radiate from his lips…

_I have…failed…_

The world returns, and I am moving. Everything seems stretched -- a million miles away. Someone is screaming. Someone is hollering. Someone is screeching about failure and darkness. It must be Tok…

All the crew follows in behind as my heavy feet bounce across the deck. I can see the dwarf, Squeals and her new, blue friend. Saylem waddles as if disturbed by what he sees. Darion tramples onward, Jaina supported by his strength. Both of them look at me oddly, concern draping their expressions. Greymane seems perturbed, while a Wrynn stops short. He shouts something barely audible as we continue…

"Go on, get him out of here!" He throws his hands as to motion our departure. "Get Jaina and him away from this place!"

Far away, Nathanos shouts, "You daft twit, what about the city? You plan to rule it and Stormwind at the same time?"

"No. Stormwind is beyond my reach now." A royal head turns reluctantly towards the sea. "My boy needs to learn to rule. And he shall learn the only way suiting…"

A firm look sweeps his fatherly face.

"This city needs order. King Wrynn will bring it order." He nods fiercely. "Go!"

At that, the King pivots back towards town, reaches downward, and draws his fine set of orange-hued blades. He moves swiftly, but is skewed by terrible images of a father holding a child in his arms. The man weeps profusely…an individual about to do what no man ever wants to do.

A father about to bury his boy…

"Mon, inside…quickly…"

The troll is barely recognizable over the person yelling. He shouts about a dying son, about a twisted fate. He screams about a life not worth living. He screeches about an end beyond ends…

We slip past an arched opening. Seconds later, another arch, and then I find myself quickly lifted and dropped. Pressure rolls across my spine. I must be on a table.

"Get da girl in da room, den da rest of ya get out!" He sounds nervous…

Jaina shoots in and out of view quickly. She is placed on a far away bed before Darion makes for the door. He stares at me, an expression I never thought possible gripping his face. He stares at me…sorrow clutching his brow…

He and Nathanos stop short at the door. At the frame, the two of them, a dwarf, Squeals, Stupee, and an old man gaze onward helplessly.

"OUT! NOW! MON!"

An spectacle of sinister slides burst in and out of view. I can see images of broken Knights, of a dwarf amongst a dark hall, of ruined lunchmeat and…of a sickened me. But they are all muffled by the constant screaming. Why won't it stop? Why won't they get rid of that person?

_You…cannot get rid of him._

Why? Get that man out of here! He won't stop!

_You…are the one…screaming…_

No…no…NO!

More and more twisted images. I thrash upwards, the upper part of my torso lifting from the table before a set of teal paws stop me. Stop it! Make the images stop! They hurt so much! Make it stop! They burn me to the bone!

_You…_

I can feel the muscles on my neck tighten, the veins on my face bulge, and the blood in my soul boil. It is so horrible. Make it stop…any…way…possible. Once again, the screams return, so distant, so unbelievable. This time, however, they are the same message repeated over and over.

They are the same two words. They are…

"Kill me!"

More…mangled…thoughts. So much anguish, so much…pain…

"KILL ME!"

Fiercely, my head whips downwards, smacking the wooden platform, yet no pain emerging. Everything grows lighter – weightless. I must have hit my head…hard…

A quick ripple across the sea of my sight, and I find all numb once again. Rolling to my right, I take sight of a soldier with numerous bandages laced across his body. It is Greymane's boy. He looks hurt…

Breaking my thought is a malicious barrage of despicable scenes. As I look upon him, a wall of unyielding darkness burns. There is nothing. There is…the…nothing but shadows and a set of purple orbs amongst a field of black.

_I will…be…freed…_

The monster still calls to me here…amongst those that supposedly care…

My eyes sweep to the other side, following a rolling skull. A troll consumes the vast of my vision, but it is not him that concerns me. For behind him rests a weeping, pained woman. She seems so troubled.

Images of a father at a woman's feet appear. It must be hers…

Images of a broken wizard, a broken master appear. It must be hers…

Images of a man clad in blue and black appear. Images of a dark being, a once noble figure appear. It must be hers…

She fades away into a thick, dark wall of nothingness. She fades into the iniquitous sea that so burdens me. She fades, leaving behind nothing but her sorrow, her sadness, and the memory of a woman upon a dock.

It is not her, but of another. It is of the woman where this all started.

This woman stares at a small dot upon the horizon, a ship lost in time and space. She dreams of a day that will be the end of this one. She dreams of a man that will return; a ring in his hand and a cigar lit upon his lips.

It is then I remember…I didn't give Cappy's wife the tokens…

But it is better that way.

"Mon," Tok sounds as if in another room, "Mon, dis gonna be a rough night for da both us."

Ignored, my thoughts focus upon what I can see. As I fade into darkness, the woman upon the sea all that is left for me, I decide that this was the proper route. I shall let her stare onward, to ponder of glorious days of when the two will meet again. I shall let her enjoy her false hope…

I shall let her dream. Dream so that I know someone is…

I shall let her dream…for the both of us…


	26. Chapter 24: Changes

**Hello, everybody.**

**Just a simple note to thank everyone for still following this story. Gives me motivation to continue, so it is much appreciated.**

**Oh, and sorry the chapters have been coming out slower, just have been busier than normal.**

**New Note: I reposted it because due to issues with this chapter being accessible. May just be a random occurrence or glitch, but if you already read this, nothing new. But read it again anyway, I know you want to. XD**

**Well, anyway...**

**Enjoy!**

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_**"Well, mon, da only ting ta be spooked of is dem spooks demselves. Oh, and change, mon. Change can be a scary too."**_

_**Vol'Jin**_

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Alone.

Amidst a field of darkness, a plain of nothingness is where I stand. It is an existence devoid of all feeling all courage and…all…light. Yet, despite all that it lacks, there can still be made out behind the void a small glimmer of life…

At first it appears as a mere blur amongst the blackened tides, but with each passing moment one cannot help but see its true nature. Rising from the ground, it is a simple, round mound that is tan in color. Thickets of grass covered rocks jut in all directions, giving definition to an otherwise dull lump. From here, it appears as if the rocks form a face upon the slope directed towards me…

Suddenly, a rush of thrashing winds whip in a frenzy before the earthen lump. Clouds of malicious darkness stir an array of colors: purple, navy blue, dark green -- each hue adds to the already mystique malformation. Wildly, uncontrollably, it strikes outwards, lashing towards the stone as if it is its greatest enemy.

However, the shadows seem to be lost in its endeavors. No matter the ferocity of the blows or strength of the collisions, the rock wall seems stable. No matter the method of maniacal precision or its deadly force, the stone holds strong. Even the pebbles that are chipped from its surface appear as if launching outwards, slashing the dark foe mercilessly.

It appears as if the earthen entity is impervious…

Then, as if queued upon my words, an event riles behind the stone structure. The face built of boulders takes no heed to the growing, black cloud behind it. The face molded of firm earth takes no heed of the rolling, pitch-black menace lurking. The face…is distracted by the complexities of the frontal foe…

And it pays dearly for its ignorance…

Twisting, bending, rolling, the black mesh of pure damnation becomes an upward arching spear of deadly designs. Like a snake to is prey, the black cloud folds into a precise hook before catapulting downward upon the back of the earthen object. The sinister strike penetrates the thick skin with ease, throwing chunks of chipped stone in all directions.

In a flash, the once mighty rock cracks, shakes violently, and begins to crumble into its own foundation. The world itself seems to flinch at the actions, quaking fiercely and agonizingly. The world itself seems to weep; rumbling, roaring earthquakes the cries to its unseen tears.

In a flash, the mound it no more leaving behind the two malicious, twisting clouds. In a flash, the duo of despair whips upon the winds before sinking into nothingness. In a flash, there is nothing but darkness.

Alone…

Alone…say for the sudden cry. They are the words of a familiar friend, of a recognizable troll...of Tok…

_I...have…failed…_

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_

Light barrages the overwhelming plane of shadows. Consuming the once bleak existence, the illumination spans the full length of my vision, graying the once pitch-black environment.

Air draws heavily through a set of sensitive nostrils. The swirling air licks the back of my throat before gliding instinctively into my expanding, central cavity. Then, as quickly as it entered, the tingling mound collapses, throwing a concoction of aerial ingredients back out the way it came…

It would seem to me that I am no longer sleeping…

_You should probably open your eyes._

Seals separate slowly. Sticking momentarily, my lids seem almost reluctant to part, but they have no choice. I expect an array of lights to smack my delicate optics into submission, but all I am greeted by is a flickering source burning from what I can only imagine to be a torch.

A torch on a wooden ship, great idea. I bet Saylem thought of that one…

_You know you would have done the same thing, Mister Hypocrite._

Hey, don't you sass me. I am a traumatized man, you know. I don't see you all rattled and beaten like me.

_You are just a boy; I am a man resilient towards such pathetic blows!_

Fine, I see what you did there. Sighing, I accept my defeat like a MAN and attempt to lift my arms towards my rather aching face…

_You know its killing me two…_

Ignoring him, I feel my right arm fling to the side of my face. Oddly, though, my near-numb left limb seems to be snagged upon something. Rolling my fingers, I quickly find that the limits of their movement are hampered by something unseen.

_You should…look?_

Following the ingenious commands of someone not matching, I twist to see what shackles, what bonds they situated upon me. Was I thrashing that wildly? Was I that crazy in my flailing? Did I…smack some fools?

_You…what?_

However, as I turn, I quickly find my overzealous desire for bondage to be lost in my emotions. Curled upon a small bed, folded beneath a thin blanket, rested upon an insignificant plane of comfort, is a young woman upon her side.

Long, blonde hair flows in all directions, covering the pillow, the sides of her face, and just about anything else it can touch. The golden strands even climb an extended arm that sticks out from the side of her body plastered against the cloth. The same arm that holds the shackles, the bonds, which interlock with my hand…

Jaina is holding…my hand…

"She held you all night." Suddenly, an expected call sends twitches down my body. "Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."

_You know he didn't, Flinchy McFlinchenstein._

Instantly, I let roll my head across the rather soft pillow. To my other side sits a man clad in silver armor. Bandages run the sides of his right arm – the same limb that bears his blade. His armor seems recently gashed upon its sides. I wonder why…

"The ships."

My eyes divert upwards. "Huh?"

"The pieces of the ships shot outwards and snagged me." He runs his unharmed arm down the cloth coverings. "I didn't want anyone to notice."

"Ah, that would explain that."

He caught me staring. Nice job, Hope.

Oddly, the man ignores me. He twitches as he gazes upon his wounds. Appearing perplexed, it is almost as if he is not truly staring at it. It is as if he is looking deeper – gawking at the unknown. It is as if…he is wandering.

Carefully, I pull my hand free of the young woman's. Gently, I peer back to her, fold her arm back towards her body, and make sure it has a proper foundation. Then, rather painfully, I pull myself to a sitting position and sigh. For some, odd reason, I cannot help but smile as I gaze upon Jaina.

_You need to stop focusing upon the ladies!_

Yeah, yeah. Throwing my head back, I let the completely lost figure fill my sight. His eyes are dull – unblinking as they continue to peer downward. Yeah, I know that face all too well. He is lost in thought.

"Are you alright…Mister?" Bah, I don't remember his name.

Instantly, he blinks and looks back at me.

"The name is Kowl." His words are bitter to the bite, "Colonel Kowl."

At first, he narrows his eyes in a fashion of rage, but he composes himself before he does or says something rash.

"Ah…sorry…forgive me." He runs a free hand across his face. "Just bothers me when someone forgets my name. But, of course, I cannot be mad at you. I never told you it to begin with."

He smiles weakly, and I cannot help but return the gesture.

"No harm. Not the first time someone bit my head off." Sadly, I sink into my own thoughts briefly before I look back at him. "Wait, did you say your name is Coal? Odd name."

Tilting backwards, he cannot help but chuckle at the comment.

"No, no. It is Kah-ow-el. A 'K' smacked with owl." A hand rolls as if to conjure meaning behind the odd name. "It is a nickname. Short for Knight Owl."

"How does one get that sort of fancy title? I mean, I get called an array of animals, but never a proper one like that."

Again, he chuckles.

"Ah, it was given to me for two reasons. Firstly, it was to signify my prior rank and the fact that I did night patrols. Secondly…" he pauses to think, "…the old man you see me with is named Gin…and rightfully so."

Hands slap the upper portions of his thighs as he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Well, one night the old drunkard came stumbling in, trying to get my attention." His voice alters to imitate that of his friend. "Kni-el. Kah…om…Kow-el."

For a second time, he shakes his head.

"The man slurred my rank and name into a what can only be described as the indescribable. However, when he came to Kowl, he seemed to rbr ather attached to it and ever since then, that is what he has called me."

Flying hands symbolize the climatic finish to his comedy.

"Well, that and the insufferable Greymane could only remember that. He could not recall my name nor rank, but that seemed to stick." Angrily, he throws his hands back to his thighs. "Giant fool."

Rocking in place, Kowl expresses memories of an unpleasant past upon gnarled lips.

"Twenty years of serving that ape. Twenty years of guarding him, protecting him. Twenty years, and he cannot even remember my name!" Rage consumes his once calm demeanor. "I became a hero upon the ship he sent me to sea upon! My mentor, my friend, the two of the closest people to me died aboard that vessel!"

He speaks of an event, of a time that clearly is beyond me.

"I earned my rank amongst the world to be forgotten by that oaf." He looks toward. "I fought a war that not even he dared take part in. I fought aboard a Gilneas Warship to only see the ones I care for perish. I fought…for nothing. And now, all I want…is to be free…"

Suddenly, his face contorts to show all that is to be sorrowed.

"I don't think I can continue this trip with you, Hope." Tears build at the edges of his eyes. "I don't think I have the strength to resist the darkness when it will confront me."

How can he say that?

_You should probably try to boost his rather fleeting morale._

"Kowl, you are clearly a strong man." Confidently and uncontrollably, I try to encourage him. "If you can withstand the pains of death and ignorance as well as I then you are capable."

Distraught eyes navigate to a set of palms that now face him. For second time, his mind roams uncontrollably. Then, after a few fleeting moments, he speaks.

"It is…just that…I do not know how I can fight something that I fully understand." Pressed eyes scream of uncertainty. "Freedom. It is the final piece to the puzzles of our mysteries, or our shattered existences."

He sighs.

"How can I deal judgment for transactions that I too wish to receive? I am afraid, Hope, that when the time comes…I will falter to the unyielding knowledge of our parallel paths."

His lips flutter, but no words slip past. What he said stirs within his mind and soul just as it does me. What he says makes logical sense. How can he fight against something that he too yearns for?

_You can only hope he has the strength when time comes…_

"Kowl, we can only wait and see."

_You have a way with words._

Instantly, Kowl's once battered eyes become a torrent of confusion, disbelief and bemusement. It would seem that the answer he received was unexpected. He digests it fully, letting each word bath his unstable soul. And what he finds draws a smirk and a weak laugh from his lips.

"Hope, you truly are something…oh no!" He throws his hands into the air. "Look at me, already forgetting my duties!"

What just happened?

"Hope, the troll wanted me to tell you to find him when you woke." Shaking his head, he attempts to redeem himself. "Outside, Hope, he is waiting outside. Don't waste anymore time with little'ol'me. Get out find him before he comes back and curses me or something…"

He pauses.

"And thank you, Hope. For listening...its been so long since something so simple as eluded me."

A smirk forms upon his face and I cannot help but return the favor.

"You've earned it, Kowl." Weakly, I slide to the edge of this unbelievably uncomfortable table. My legs slap the floor as I lean forward. Pain strikes my back fiercely and I cannot help but say, "Bah, I am too old for this."

Kowl chuckles as I pull myself to my feet. Carefully, I trot across the hard floor. Painfully, I embrace each step with the full agony bearing. Finally, I reach the door, turn the knob, and let it slide forward…into some unknown blocker.

"Ow!"

"Saylem?"

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep there."

What a fool…wait…did he just…apologize?

Trying to comprehend what just occurred, I almost fall forward as the door is flung upon from the opposite end. Standing amidst the frame is the same man that I thought was speaking. But…he…apologized?

"Hope…are…" he seems to stumble upon his own words, "…are you ok?"

Woah…

I am caught off guard, but I best not let him see that. Smacking my lips, I compose myself as I make to answer, "Yeah, I am still breathing."

Oddly…he smiles…

"Well, that is a form of being ok." He looks nervously around him before swiftly moving from the doorway. "Sorry."

"No worries."

Slipping past the door, I make out to the gently swaying deck just as he lets the door swing closed – leaving behind the forgotten champion and the lost queen. Sadly, what follows can only be described as the most agonizing awkwardness ever.

I stare at him briefly before scanning the walls for…something. He puckers his lips weirdly before making a smacking sound. I let my tongue clack within the mouth before I finally look back to him.

"Yup."

"Yeah."

My eyes dart to my side and instantly I see my escape.

"Well, I am going to go see Tok now."

"Sounds good."

I nod, "Yup."

"Yeah."

At that, I turn from him, make to the stairs and wait for his pressing eyes to depart from my being. That was weird. Let's not…do…that…again. Ugh, why is it so hard to breath?

_You need more exercise._

Suddenly, and without warning, my chest tightens and the edges of my sight flicker wildly. A green haze flutters in and out of sight, blurring the ship. It lasts but a moment, yet I know full well what just occurred. I just passed in and out of the dream…

Relax, Hope, it was nothing. Taking a deep breath, I ignore the incident and climb the length of the stairs. Depressingly, as I reach the top step, it occurs again; the edges of reality oscillate, and the hues of jade's craft flicker momentarily before I find myself stable once more.

What in the world is going on?

_You REALLY need exercise._

My hands slip across the slick railing, while a feeble form stumbles upon the upper deck of the ship. Bracing my body with my left arm, I use the right to rub the source of the intense tension. That is so odd…

"Uh, its like a never-ending bad dream…" I speak out loud.

"Ya mon, It be a bad dream, mon." And the troll replies.

My eyes navigate across the wooden platform. At first, all I can find is a slightly, upward sloping platform and the short, frontal mast, but as I continue my hunt, I soon discover the clothed figure just to the right of the visible rod.

"Ya feeling bettah, mon?"

Slowly, I march towards the troll.

"Could be better." The mast passes my side, but bears my weight as I lean upon it. "Ya know, less night terrors and all."

His large nose comes into view as he turns the side of his face towards me.

"Come get a view of dis, mon." A staff slides against a wooden base as a hand and a lone finger direct my vision from him and to the vast sea ahead. "Don't get'ah view like dis very often, mon."

Without hesitating, I find myself peering in his suggested route. Gazing outward upon the sight, its significance instantly strikes me deaf and mute. There isn't anything but that which stands before me and nothing that dare separate me from its grandeur.

A short distance before us is a vast sea of upward expanding amber, manifested of delicate perfection. Dark-orange fingers climbs the sky, while ample traces of gorgeous red hug the silhouette of a mighty mountain range – the hue of a hidden sun. It is from the pocket of red that the hands of the angels glide outwards, forming a semi-sphere of golden beauty; the Titan's grace for all to see.

The marvelous splendor rides into the heavens before fading into the inevitable darkness of a spent night. A mesh of orange, amber, red, and all other bright colors that I cannot dare comprehend magnified by the shadows of a forgotten darkness. It is a near perfect snapshot of the future; a sign of the coming light amidst the overwhelming tenebrous designs of our present.

But we all know that in this day, omens are as reliable as a raging ocean…

"Beautiful, eh mon?" Tok peers forward once more. "Orgrimmar at its finest. Da picture of hope amongst da evil shadows."

He sighs and leans backwards, letting thoughts roam through his head.

"Shame we got but a few minutes left, mon. I could stare at'dis forevah."

One cannot help but smirk as the troll loses himself in the simplicity. One cannot help but peer back at that which smiles as brightly as a true love or shines as richly as the grandest of treasures. One cannot help…

Overwhelmed, the tension returns before the pulsing teal of the true nature of our existence. All shades of brightness dull -- orange becomes jade, amber becomes green, red becomes emerald. All hope lost to a brief fleeting moment.

Just as equally as shock hits me it departs, leaving behind a shaken man.

"Dat only gonna get worse, mon." His wide, focused eyes narrow upon me. "Wat happened back at da city only sped its process, mon."

My fingers slide across the surface of my chest as a bit of frustration consumes my sense of reasoning.

"How do you know that, Tok? How do you know all this?" I am unable to control myself. "How can you know so much, yet I know so little."

Shock seeps upon his dumbstruck lips. He is caught off guard by these comments, but by the sudden frown and deep sigh, I know that he knows what I saying…

But before he can speak a thing, the words of Nathanos flow through my mind. The lines that were spoken before the tree and the city. Before the release of the darkness, and the flow of the shadows. Before Skippy rammed the dock…or was it after?

No, that is not important. All that is, are the words that bound sanity and insanity as one. And I must ask them myself…

_You must also be willing to listen._

"Tok…" I flinch briefly, "…who are you?"

Silence follows momentarily.

"Mon, I do not know if...ya…" his eyes lock with mine, and they pierce my soul. "…ya might need more time…"

He stumbles upon his own words while he ponders. Optics drift to the floor before promptly navigating back to me. It is then he lowers his voice…

"Listen well, mon, an'believe wat ya hear. Dis not be a tall-tale, mon."

He sweeps the deck to make sure of solitude. Then, with all determination, all strength willing, he speaks…

"Mon, I be a being beyond ya time, beyond ya understanding. I be da first of me kind, da blueprint of Azeroth's trolls." Tusks flutter with his rather slow pace of speech, "I be da Grand Shaman, I be da protector…"

He stands upright, confidence beaming.

"I be…one of da Ancients. One of da two." His lips snarl as he continues, "Dere were two, two beings built ta protect dis planet. Two to keep it safe. One be a Troll, da other…be a man born of Vrykul, giant-man, and human blood."

Rage flows across his words, yet is contained.

"We supposed to protect dis planet as bruddahs, but one fell to da sway of powa. One broke from his promise, building beneath him a'army of da shadow -- built beneath him a following know as da Twilight Cultists."

A free hand rolls into a furious fist.

"And now, after eons done passed, dose dat once be bruddahs, now stand as enemies. Dose dat were born ta'protect da world from da shadow, now wage war on eitha'side. I, Tok Fon, Grand Shaman, am da Boss of da Ancients, dose of da Titanic Path. And me Bruddah, Conrad Draken, leads da vast armies of da Twilight and shadows…"

Tok pauses as he embraces the words to come.

"As da Dark General."

He glares at me, yet truly at something beyond me.

"Me soul task, me soul existence since me creation is ta keep Vengeance where he at. Conrad has forgotten him purpose, but Tok knows better." He pulls closer to me, "And Tok will not fail."

His words intensify, yet dull to a whisper.

"…he cannot fail…"

Abruptly, he raises his staff vertically before gazing towards da blackened skies.

"When da sun reach above us, da highest in da sky, den ya soul, ya body will fail ya. It is den dat da armies of da Dark Gods and of da Shadow shall converge upon us. It is den dat da we all be tested. It is den…"

Concerned eyes drift back towards me.

"It is den when ya are freed from ya curse, mended of ya broken soul, or…it is when ya are lost ta'da darkness…forevah…"

Fearfully, I gaze upon him as the words slither from his throat. They batter my being with all barrages capable, yet…yet…they do not weaken me. They do not crush my resolve nor hinder my strength.

I must be strong…

_You will be strong._

But I must also know…

"What will happen to me…well…when the final vision hits me?"

"Ya will find yaself unable to stay in either realm for long, mon. Both will become ya stable home until finally ya will be lost in limbo between dem both. Ya will know, mon. Ya will know."

Suddenly, the ship jerks and the sounds of screeching wood fill the air. Well, it would seem that we are docking. Good thing Skippy knows how to let us know we have arrived somewhere…

_You would prefer a fog horn attached to a megaphone…_

"Mon, how did dat goblin get a ship of him own?"

I make to reply, but a loud, crackling voice of someone I do not wish present booms...

"That, troll, is almost as puzzling as when you were gonna tell me this glorious tale." Nathanos' marvelous voice travels from behind. "Don't you worry, though, for I am as sneaky as the grandest of ninjas."

Tok throws a brief glance to me before depressingly closing his eyes. Sliding his hand across his face and letting it run across his long, dark blue ponytail, he sighs and twists to confront the undead upon the same stairs that I ventured upon.

"Mon, don't ya know its rude ta ease-drop?"

"Troll, don't you know it's rude to leave me wanting? Actually, that is a sin, I believe."

Wooden boards squeak as the tall, lanky man lumbers over towards Nathanos.

"Think of it dis way, mon, ya got da story at its fullest, and ya didn't even need ta disturb me wit ya constant interruptions."

Nathanos glares.

"Why don't you look at it as I won't be needing to ram my boot up your…"

"Ladies, gentlemen, and dead things," Skippy tactfully silences Marris, "I am not telling you to leave the ship, but you can no longer stay here."

He pauses, waiting for us all to peer his way. It is then, once all eyes are upon his tiny self, that he throws a pointing gesture at the dock he so delicately greeted.

"Now get off my ship, you moochers. One free ride to some safe city, all my Cappy is going to get without payment!"

Not a soul moves.

"Fine, now you made me unleash the wrath…of Mister Fluffy." Ramming his foot onto the captain's deck, he sendsadorable palpitations throughout the craft. "Mister Fluffy, come rough these slackers up so I can get back to indecent…stuff…"

A brief silence pursues before rhythmic bursts rain from the innards of the vessel. Second after second, the sounds become booming stomps. Second after second, the calm crew becomes unnerved. Second after second, a shadow draws from the inside portal…until…it appears.

Emerging on the deck, is a tall, wide, furry individual. Thick legs and hearty arms are lathered in a natural, brown coat. A pair of short, black horns run from the sides of its head, just above a flat, hairless face. It is an upright cow.

_You know it's a Taunka. You met him before._

Oh yeah…

"Ok, you heard the captain. Please depart before I do something I find undesirable. Like make him redock this ship." He twists, catching all the eyes that he can, "You don't want that now, do you?"

As his deep, wise voice finishes raining forth like an aged man telling stories around a fire, the individuals on the ship flinch and hurriedly make for the wooden dock. The cow makes a valid point; he makes me sick when he docks.

_You never said that before…_

I have my secrets…

"Come on, ya two, might as well get off. It where we be head'n anyway."

"Oh, we?" Nathanos grunts as the Troll begins his descent, "When did this become 'we?' Oh bearer of secrets."

Tok has his secrets too…

Ignoring him, the troll escapes the stairs and swiftly navigates upon the crinkled dock. Greymane quickly follows after him, pursued by a dwarf, a rather polite politician, a Death Knight, and a blue chunky thing with…wait…where is Squeals?

As I reach the bottom step, the familiar screech, that baby chirp, rings from near my feet. Without thinking, I kneel, twist, and embrace the tiny, wriggling companion with all love able. Grabbing her, I lift her to my chest, give her a grand hug, and let her commence the unyielding face ravaging – only tongues allowed.

I pull her from my face, let her vibrate in my clutches, and give her a great big smile. You are cute!

"Worm," and that moment is ruined, "If I didn't think that raptor was so adorable, I would have kicked you out of my way a good while ago."

I sigh.

"I'm moving, Marris. I'm moving."

"Good Worm."

My feet shift upon the ship, but even with my haste, the undead shoots past me and darts upon the wooden ramp. He throws a few odd glances at the small, incomplete buildings that are laden upon the thick, unforgiving soil. I follow fast, but he is just that speedy. In seconds he catches the rest of group, but oddly halts.

"Wait a minute. When did they build this?"

Tok shrugs, "No idea, mon. Ya guess be as good as mine."

He glances through the rest of the party, to oddly find Saylem the one peering knowingly back at him.

"A few months ago. They built it to show their dominance over the ever-assaulting…seaweed people." He rolls his hand as if trying to remember, "They had to rebuild a few times, but they are about finished now."

Marris blinks before tilting his head in bemusement.

"And you know this…why?"

"Well," Saylem scratches his head as he departs the docks, "I have been here a few times...but not for a few months now. Not since they banned all…outsiders."

"Outsiders?" I cannot help but blurt before Nathanos. Yeah, that's right undead man, I just beat you…

"Let me in this city, it is urgent!" That raspy, aged voice echoes familiarly, "How dare you disrespect an aspect of nature! You young, disgracely…imps!"

Without missing a beat, the vast lot of us dash past the remaining, quasi-completed edifices, sprint across the heavy dirt, and scurry underneath a crooked, wooden tower that holds a pair of ramps that appear as aerial docks.

Finally, as we round a bend, the sight to the audio is discovered. Alas, my eyes divert to the strange anomaly of change. Glistening, dark-gray blocks rise one-hundred feet into the sky. Jagged spines run vertically in perfect lines from the base to the topside. Streaks of light ripple across the rigged, ragged surfaces of the crudely crafted steel walls.

Those walls didn't used to be made of metal…

"Curse you foul little demons! Can you not plainly see the urgency of my mission, you impotent, green scoundrels?"

Now, my eyes sweep the orange, dusty paths until it comes to an equally colored, giant tree. The same being as before, except this time his leaves have faded to an array of solid amber, orange and dark-brown. He almost appears…sickly…

"Stand back, Ent! The Warchief would have no arguments if we ripped your limbs off and planted you as a decoration upon our grounds!"

"Why you little…!"

We slow as we near the tree looming above the half-dozen, well armored, orc guards. Heavy, black shields are bolstered upon arms dressed in thick, red plate. They don't remind me of the same, leather-bearing figures from before…

"Mon, wat did dey do ta'da city?"

Fiercely, the troll trots across the filthy ground, rushing to the side of his giant, lumbering friend of nature.

"Mons, why are'ya fighting dis being of da elements?" He throws a lone digit at the tree, "Thrall done have ya'head for dis!"

"Thrall?" The guard rudely chuckles, "Thrall will not save you now, troll…"

The heavy helm twists towards us.

"What is this? You bring the enemies to our gates?" Arms are brought to their fronts. "Filthy alliance dogs, we will mount your heads upon these fresh walls!"

Woah…what is going on?

"Excuse me?" An enraged Marris appears in my vision. "If you dare assault me, orcs, I will mow you down, plant flowers over your plowed corpse, and dance on the fresh buds!"

Not the best, Nathanos, but I will give it to you.

_You need to focus…_

"Who are…wait…" An axe is lowered, "Commander Marris?"

"No, the beautiful pixie from the pond down the lane. Yes, Commander Marris, you ninny."

"Commander, the Warchief has been wanting a word with you!" He twists back to his fellow guards, "Soldiers, escort this Undead and his…prisoners…to the Warchief!"

Before Nathanos can say a word, the pack of orcs surround us, draw their weapons and make rather angry motions for us to make for the entrance. So much for a warm welcome…

Y_ou were once a hero around here…_

In a blur of a moment, the orcs grab us one by one and drag us forward. A rather painful force is exerted through my upper-arm, but there is not much I can about it. Well, I could smack him with my shovel, but I won't. I shouldn't…

_You first choice of words was best!_

In a matter of seconds, we pass the tree, and approach a massive, iron blocker in front of an equally as gigantic entranceway. As we slip into the city, the tree calls to us.

"Troll, the winds call to us all now!" He slowly fades as we quickly enter, "In the shattered forests to the north, that is where my destiny lies! It is where our destinies lie!"

And at that, we rush out of ear-shot, slide into town, and consume the once glorious view that was this valley. Prior stone-structures are now coated in thick, homely metal. Dozens upon dozens of buildings are shadowed by giant spires of iron that loom overhead.

Four, new pillars form a perimeter around a central tower. Arrays of weapons are mounted upon all five structures, and are properly manned by at least a dozen orcish warriors.

Ow!

My feet are nearly dragging as the orc carelessly lifts me over a small dip. We shoot past what appears to be an armored bank building, dart up a path, and make our way into the iron and wood interior of the middle tower.

It takes but a few moments for us to scale the spiraling staircase and reemerge on top of the structure. Once there, a small pack of soldiers seem drawn to our scene and join in our escorting.

Dozens of shoes slap in rapid succession as we cross a dense, metallic bridge. I do believe this was once a nice, wooden bridge. Nice and soft. This iron hurts my feet.

Thankfully, we depart the bridge, hurry down a narrow pass – numerous torches lighting the way as the steel roof overhead dulls out all light. We approach a large gate where we slow momentarily before a few sets of guards interact and…wait…I hear something…

No…I hear someone…

"Garrosh, you will not impede our actions upon Gilneas! If you send war vessels, you will only draw more alliance to the…"

That sweet, glorious, enrage voice…

"If we do not send warships, Windrunner, then we will never have that port. If I do not send warships, then your imcompetent people will be wiped from the face of the planet."

The door opens a bit, allowing light to wash over us.

"Not that the Horde couldn't do without your disgusting, disgrace of a race."

"You foul Orc, how dare you…"

"Do not raise your voice to your Warchief, you wench!"

Parting completely, what is displayed sends shivers of fiery fury and spikes of chilling horror down my spine. An orc, Garrosh, clad in full armor pulls back a mighty hand, flattens its surface and lets if fly forward…

_PHWACK_

The hand, the sickening, unholy fist of leathery terror slams mercilessly upon the face of an elegant face. Slams upon the face of an seductive beauty. Slams against the woman of my dreams…

Garrosh Hellscream strikes…Sylvnas Windrunner…

The world grows silent. The universe seems to freeze. A snapshot of the transgression is depicted for us all, and it is all that is needed…to send the undead next to me into a full sprint. He is but a blur of a man, a flash of a figure…a mesh of hatred, rage, and pure determination.

One can barely get a glimpse of the man leaping into the air, pulling his feet to his front, and becoming an aerial projectile. His boney, flat feet slam into the side of Garrosh. The orc plummets, while an undead falls straight down onto his back.

As the warriors they are, the two brawlers leap back to their feet, brace themselves and lock sight. Raging optics formed from two enemies become a single source of confrontation. Blaring orbs burn each other, their fury a torrent of ferocity. The two are equally matched with their determination, their might, their resolve. It is at this very moment that all their normally perfect qualities are disputed.

The only difference between the two gladiators…is the numbers on each side, and given the number of orcs, then it would seem that I need to balance these scales.

Grabbing my spade from my, I prepare myself. However, as I make to move, a small dwarf quietly emits…

"Ah lad, this ain't gonna end well."

His words are absorbed, yet are lost in the moment of it all. As the two before me ready for battle, a pack of guards flock in for the unfair, honorless victory.

Darting forward, all force catapulted in my legs, I draw my self into attack position. So much for a grand greeting of glorious pasts. But those memories are lost. All that remains is now. And no one hits my Queen. No one….

Moving fast, I come upon an unsuspecting orc, I swing my spade back, ready for an attack…

"Thanks for your kind welcome to Orgrimmar!" It whips forward, aiming for the head spinning to face me. "In the honor of Thrall, I have come to serve the Horde!"

_CLANK_


	27. Chapter 25: No Place in this World

**_"We elders stand at the end of our people's dark path, fearing the tainted route we left. Our young are at the start of a new journey, blind to look past their own noses. If only we elders could be strong enough to face our past. If only our young weren't so naive. Then we could see that we would be simply staring back at one another."_**

**_Lord Saurfang as he sits within his forgotten Post upon the world's icy-cap of Northrend._**

**_

* * *

_**

"Commander, cease and desist!

Sylvanas' sweet voice is lost to the unbridled wrath of her champion. His boney feet slap the stone path beneath it. His legs feverishly catapult a hasty, blurred form across sun-scarred sand and dust. His arms drag blood-caked, rusty blades to the ready.

Ahead of him stands an orc bracing within his grasps a pair of battle-heartened axes. Ahead of him awaits his foe, all aspects of his existence prepping. Ahead of him, ahead of Nathanos, ahead of the undead, is Garrosh Hellscream…

"MARRIS, STOP!"

Her words mean little; her shattered pride all that matters to her hero. Leaping into the air, he drags his blades to the rear, pulls his boney legs to his body, and makes for the strike. Like death itself, he descends, only one goal, one objective as his complete focus.

_CAHTING_

A grand collision rattles the warriors, their interlocking weapons throwing enraged sparks to match that of their creators.

_CAHTING, CAHTING_

Furious feet stir dirt into rising.

_CAHTING, CAHTING, CAHTING_

Sounds of battle ring across this valley's, vacant halls.

_CAHTING_

Equivocal enemies stir unequivocal actions -- the orc's situation calling his guards into action.

_CAHTING_

And as these cowardly, covert coveters position to corner the undead beast, one cannot help but fling himself from his currently incapacitated target, leap at the nearest green foe, whip his spade to the ready, and…

_TING_

Another orc buckles to my might. But there are too many. Too many for us both. Fortunately for our team, surprise is with us, and it is an ally overwhelming and true. Go on, Hope, let another fly. Spade back, arms at the ready. Let him have it…

_TING_

The world blurs. I cannot tell if my actions are my own, but I know I do not resist their goal. Spade back, arms at the ready…

_TING_

They seem so focused on protecting their fallacy of a leader. They seem so determined, but are so blind. I can swing like this forever.

_TING_

Even as they redirect their vision upon my stampeding self, they do not comprehend the true strength behind this hero. Spade back, arms…

_TING_

With such force, the previous blow drags the helm from his cracked skull. And as it clanks upon the crusty floor, a trio of guardians pivot and face my direction. Their eyes are dazed yet determined. Their vision pierces yet does not penetrate. They desire to protect their leader…but their loyalty is lacking...

_TING_

To that of which I serve my Queen…and her ruby eyes…

_TING_

No one touches my Queen. My banshee. My…beauty. No one. As the final guard draws sword and shield alike, one knows the outcome. Lifting my blade over my head, face pointing at the foe, I prepare to strike.

Suddenly, my chest tightens. The world pulses. All strength is sapped. Green floods my vision before promptly exiting…leaving behind a weakened, derailed form of a man…

Arms falter. All steam extinguished by the chill of misfortune. Below me, the once bewildered buck has found the weakness of the now calmed bull. Glinting metal is drawn backwards. Deadly iron drips venom from its clean, clear tip. There is nothing I can do…

_TITHBURSH_

A deafening roar ripples from my side. Screams radiate from the orc as blood gushes from a newly formed wound upon its leg. What in the world?

_TITHBURSH, TITHBURSH_

The large shield deflects one round while the second slams into the beast's chest, sending it to its back. Before I can do turn to relish in the hero of the moment, he calls to me…

"Pitiful. I was hoping to tell this story with the phrase '_and an army fell to a man with a shovel_'." Saylem appears in sight, grabbing my slowly recuperating arm, "Its ok, I had some spare bullets to share anyway."

Bemused, I can barely let forth the words as I stare at him, "Saylem, you were the last person…"

A sudden jerk pulls me down and to the side…

_TITHBURSH_

Another explosion signals the boom of a cannon, yet this time it is of magnified proportions. And as the echoes bounce upon the walls, I catch sight of a nearby orcish fiend – its hands gripping an apparently wounded face.

"Lads, ye'gonna make out or are ye gonna finish what'ye started?" Brann roars from behind us as he jerks my gun from my shoulder. "What I would give for a good ol'Rumsey Rum bout'now!"

Replying, I shake my head in disbelief, "Thought you were going to sit this one out, Brann."

"Lad, I said this party gonna'get ugly. Never said I didn't bring my drinking hat!"

He drags the cannon to his chest, slams a round into the chamber, takes aim…

_TITHBURSH_

"Ye'stinky orcs make a drunken dwarf's soiled beard smell like lilacs and spiced rum!" Another bullet rammed into the weapon, "Catch this with ye'face! It will be an improvement!"

His eyes align upon another shielded horde soldier, but it is what emerges in the corner of his vision that stirs him to flinch. Barreling from a nearby, darkened path is a hasty, marauding fighter. Its thick, green skin holds its own – only a long loincloth to bear. Both hands grip the neck of a solid axe. And in flash, its fangs, its razor is ready for onslaught…

And it is sent for the kill, the poor dwarf a mere loaf of bread for the slicing…

But, just as our enemies have their numbers, we have our skill, our speed and our…Death Knights. Whipping into sight, Darion lunges to the rescue, catching the curved blade midair. With ease, he halts the weapon, throws a fist forward, and slams his metal gauntlet square in the foe's face.

Stumbling, but far from finished, the beast regains his stability. Lurching forward, he lets forth a grand roar. Darion, not amused, gathers dark, swirling magic at his finger taps and smirks. A black flash appears, sending forth a spiraling, dark skull that collides directly into the orc's chest.

The fool is sent flying, bouncing off the roof of a hut like a leaf in the wind. Ouch…

"I swear, Hope," Darion shakes his head in disgust, "you go out of your way to stir the masses into butchering you. Protecting you is a full time job."

Smiling, I take in the new pack of ascending orcs as they prepare for the next onslaught, "Well, that is why you followed me, wasn't it?"

He doesn't say a word, but I do detect a smile.

And as he savors my words, a flash of silver and white whips past my sight. Kowl quickly becomes a clean and crisp vision of the first to fight. A shield smashes against the skull of one while a sword snaps the hand clear off the other. But before he can dare take on the entire pack, a shadow passes overhead.

Just as quickly, the dark patch fades into nothingness as the lumbering Greymane slams into the ground – weak shockwaves stunning those closest. With bare fists, he catapults one set of knuckles into a solid-metal cranial coffin while the other pulls down the shield of another.

In moments, a pair of leathery villains is sent tumbling backwards. Foolishly, two more quickly replace the ones fallen; however, of them, it is the large, massive, axe-wielding assailant that draws our Greymane's attention.

Without wasting a moment, the lion-cloth toting orc arches the blade cocks it to ready and lets it thrash forward. Ducking, Greymane evades the sweeping strike throws his hands upwards and clasps the head between a set of vertical palms. Grasping the sides of his skull, they lock eyes momentarily.

It is there that the two exchanged glares. It is there they let forth their soldier spirits. It is there that all is lost. It is there…where the grand king flings his head rearwards grits his teeth and let's fly his weapon.

Both skulls collide, the sounds of cracking bone emitted. The orc flails, staggers rearwards prior to collapsing into the gathering force of warriors. Greymane, however, curls his shoulders back shakes his head and lets forth a mighty roar. Thick-headed indeed…

Foolishly, as we gaze on the still engaged Commander and the false Chief, a deep growl rolls from behind. Instantly, I twist, readying for the unexpected surge of guards from our easily flanked position. But what I find is a small mound of wriggling, agonized, defeated orcs basking in the greatness that is the unholy knight.

Darion, using his dark strength, manages to overwhelm the few behind us, slams the giant iron blockers, and uses a nearby, iron spear to seal the door. Satisfied with his work, he nods and pivots back to us. A weak smirk signifies his true glee behind his stern, organic mask…

"To my side, Lieutenant!" Greymane's grand call draws me front side once more, "It has been too long since I have partook in orc! Lets make it a time to remember!"

He gnarls his massive, muscular arms while his trusty soldier comes to his side – his trusty Colonel. Behind him, a set of metallic cannons snap to the ready while a mighty, blue-hued blade tilts into an aggressive position.

And as I pull to the line, spade set to strike, the king barks, "And let's make it a time they will…never…forget."

And here we stand, the few against the flooding fury of an unleashed horde. The once furious element of surprise has dissipated into nothingness, leaving behind the surge of anticipation, anxiety, and adrenaline. It is now us…and them…

_You already made a big enough mess, might as well get in there and wreck the whole place!_

Taking a step forward, I let my spade swing back, pull my arms to the ready and…

"ENOUGH!" Sinister crackles coat the thundering boom of what can only the deep call of Garrosh.

All movement stops. The world grows silent say for the still fleeing echoes of his gnarled, dark voice. Even I cannot resist the temptation to throw my sight upon the orc. There he stands, blades locked with the shorter, oddly stressed Nathanos.

Looming over our commander, the orc unveils a malicious, insufferable smirk – its very existence taunting. Then, with all great strength able, he lunges forward, sending the undead figure skidding backwards – dust spewed from his spiny toes.

Erecting, the beast draws revels in the moment as if triumphant…

"I am almost impressed." Slow, rhythmic bursts shoot from his mouth as gunshot-laughter, "Marching into my city, assaulting my guards, assaulting ME…"

A thick, tree-trunk leg is launched forward. The other is catapulted ahead…

"And not a one of you greets your Warchief as a true Horde would…" another step, closer to Nathanos now. "…but how can I be disappointed? How can this Warchief be upset when he already knew not a single one of you were…truly Horde…"

Snapping upright, Nathanos rage still bathing his words, "What nonsense do you jabber, Orc?"

The thick, sinister smirk twists his face further, "Oh, did you forget your betrayal already, Commander?"

"Betrayal?" Nathanos grips his blades fiercely, "Nathanos Marris does not bear the proverbial dagger of cowardice, you disgusting, leathery pig!"

Once more, he chuckles, "Boarding an alliance ship, aiding the escape of our very enemies' leaders! And now this…

His eyes drag briefly to us, hatred smothering us all, "You stand beside _them_, Undead scum!"

Nathanos pulls himself face-to-face with Garrosh. Inches apart, the two engage in intimidation warfare. Eyes launch strikes at each foe. Pupils dance flanking movements. The greatest of mental skirmishes…

Without breaking his sight, Nathanos speaks…

"I stand beside my Queen, Orc. It would seem that your actions speak louder than your obnoxious voice, orc. No one hits my lady. No one."

Extending his arm, Garrosh motions towards the nearly Forgotten Sylvanas. Oddly, she simply stands, a pair of guards holding her where she be. There is no fight in our Lady. Once fiery eyes are choked by the unknown. What is she doing? Stab someone!

_You know she isn't planning to…_

She has to be. She…is…right?

"Tell them, wench!" He twists towards her, his foul words drawing my rage into uncontrollable portions.

I take a step forward, but Tok's sudden voice and body intervene, "Not now, mon. Not now."

"Where were you, Troll?" I whisper through gnarled teeth.

"Try'n ta keep from doin'wat ya just did, mon." His voice is coated in disappointment and anger. "Ya done exactly wat da monsta'wanted. Ya played right into his hands, mon. Ya…"

"Silence, Troll!" Garrosh bellows forth, instantly quelling Tok, "Your word holds no place here! Only the foul undead woman should be paining my ears now!"

Closing his eyes, Tok obeys the command…and as he does, so does our once noble Queen…

"Marris, you don't understand." She attempts to move towards him, but her jailors refuse, "Bah, get your sickly lambs off me, Garrosh."

He nods and she is released. She swiftly, elegantly glides towards Marris. Her stride still speaks her fiery language, yet her voice and actions do not…

"The idiot here was enraged when you failed to take Gilneas. He sent an army to finish where you left off, but when he heard of your actions…he…"

She draws closer to him, just audible from my distance, "He invaded Undercity, Marris. He marched in, removed all my guards and…"

She winches, the words to come torturing her greatly, "He took it from me, Nathanos. Agmar, his right-hand, now commands the city."

"Why didn't you stop them, woman? Where is that fighter's fury, my Lady? Where is the warrior that I call my Queen?"

Her eyes glaze, the tears that will never come formed. Sorrow basks her entire form. What fills her soul has snuffed the fire that once fueled all her motives.

Whispering, her voice cannot be heard, but I can follow those red lips – read every word from their glistening, shaking beauty. And what follows sickens me to the core…

"Garrosh holds the city captive. He threatens them to a fate worse than death if they do not take Gilneas. I have no more power. I have no more sway. I…"

She quivers, "…I am not your Queen anymore…Commander."

No…

"My Lady, how?" Nathanos' voice, however, is as loud and pompous as ever, "How did this happen?"

Once more, I must follow the sensual lips to feed my knowledge, "I didn't know what to do, Marris. I…I…was weak…"

"She was WEAK!" Garrosh repeats her last line for the now gathering population to hear. "And now because of her failures, she is no longer fit to rule one of my cities!"

"Mon, da cities of da Horde are not fo'ya gain!" Tok yells down to the orc, "Dey not be yours, mon!"

"Enough of your tongue shaman! You too have disgraced the Horde with your ignorant actions! You have led the enemy to our gates and allowed them to my doorstep! You…"

As he bloviates on, a swift figure darts through the crowd as a commotion stirs behind him. He quickly silences, watching the orc scurry towards him. Hundreds of voice echo within the main thoroughfare to the city's heart. And with each passing moment, the voices of the populace soon become a near roar.

What in the world…

The figure comes to Garrosh's side and reveals an unknown secret. Eerily, the Warchief begins to chuckle manically. He oscillates back and forth as if maddened. Whatever the fool heard definitely made him more joyous than the events prior…

Unexpectedly, he faces the large path now filled with thousands of orcs, raises one arm and pompously howlers, "Bring me my prize!"

Thunderous cackles are secreted from his harsh lips as he pivots towards us, "It would seem that there were greater evidences of your crimes amongst your ship, fools."

His words are dulled by the increasing commotion.

Louder and louder the crowd grows. Louder and louder does the uproar surge. Louder and louder, as a set of figures scale down another side path that leads to us. It is a narrow, winding path that hugs the valley side. It is the path where Brann's, near-naked assailant emerged from. And what walks it chills the bone…

Two guards with an old man in arms. Gin…

"At long last, she is MINE!" Garrosh bellows as whatever stirs the crowd comes into sight.

A set of guards, just barely visible, drag an unseen figure through the pack. Closer and closer they draw. The populace's voices travel. Nearer and Nearer. The city is drawn into a frenzy. Finally, the spectacle exposes itself; guarded warriors grasp a figure draped in all white. Long blonde hair is matted and frayed.

Swiftly, she is pulled to Garrosh. Jaina…at the mercy of a beast…

"It almost seems too good to be true!" The orc throws his arms with excitement, "To think I dared raid that isle fortress when all I needed was a set of bumbling fools to get you here!"

His eyes drift to us as his arms lower, "Treacherous dogs and the alliance harlot in my hands!" Dark, unmistakably iniquitous chuckles waft from his lungs, "Such a glorious day indeed!

"Garrosh, you monster, what do you think you are doing?" She trashes but her jailors hold firmly, "You are wrecking all the progress Thrall made!"

Garrosh frowns, reaching at something at his waist as she continues, "Disgracing his name, that is what you are doing, Garrosh!"

Swiftly, he jerks a short, curved silhouette of dagger from his belt, just out of her gaze, "How can you just…"

Mercilessly, he grabs the young woman and thrusts. Widen eyes express the strike. Clenched neck muscles reveal the anguish. Wheezing lungs expose the deadliness. Without mercy, without care…Garrosh holds the blade sternly, savoring the moment like only a tyrant dare do.

Silence sweeps the crowd as the unforgivable, unbelievable event actually occurs…

Slowly, maliciously, he draws the penetrating object rearwards. She makes to scream, but her lungs give no aid. She makes to fight, but her muscles lock. She makes to resist, but her eyes tell no lies. There is more to that blow than a mere stabbing. There is something…worse…

Garrosh's voice reverberates within the silent halls…

"There was a man amidst the underbelly of that sickening, magi sanctuary, Jaina, that collected a rather interesting brew." Calmly, he steps back, his eyes fixed on the tiny weapon as he tells the spontaneous story, "Sadly, that same man hid it all for himself."

He glances to the dumbstruck woman – her look the same as our own, "After hours of carving his disgustingly soft body, he vomited from his lips the location of his life's work. Unfortunately, his sudden death would guarantee the man would never see what would come of it."

Turning from her, he leaves Jaina as is, all interest fading, "A pity, really, for my soldiers concocted from the human's brew a foul poison that I could succumb to!"

Apathetically, he lets fall the arm that holds the blade. The metal dangles between his thick fingers, "It swells the vocal cords, silencing the victim."

He marches towards the palace's steps.

"It soils the muscles, paralyzing the prey."

Dropping the blade, it bounces to the dust as if naught.

"It corrodes the veins, killing the wounded…within…hours…"

"Garrosh, what have you done!" Sylvanas' fire now burning, "Thrall…"

"Thrall is no longer part of this Horde, wench!" Pivoting, he angrily turns his shoulder to the Queen, "And neither are you!"

Swiftly, the orc pulls himself to the highest step, raises his arms to the vast populace below him, and lets forth a cry that is echoed within the cannon, carried by the wind, and sent across the lands…

"In the honor of Thrall, in the last act bearing his name, I shall give mercy to these traitors! Only shall I ban them from this city, forever sent to whatever dark land will take their sinister ways!"

He pulls his arm into his body, "No blood of our enemies shall be not be spilt amongst these halls! Hospitality for those ignorant of its graces!"

Crafting eyes sweep the intently focused crowd, "But their actions cannot be forgotten! Their taint never lifted if any of their remnants are left here to remind us of their defiling ways!"

His words draw to the denizens, pulling them to each syllable.

"The traitor's very kin, its very brothers, will always remind us of their despicable actions! Their very existence the taint I speak of!" The despot's unquestioned words flowing, "Paranoia and fear will sweep the halls of this great city! Fear that will bring…weakness."

A suspenseful pause follows…

"And the Horde knows no weakness!"

Suddenly, the crowd begins to stir, the voices of the many quickly overwhelming all those caught in the moment.

"From this day forth, the malicious plots of our supposed allies will not be tolerated! From this day forth, the Undead and Trolls alike shall take their pitiful place amongst the rebellious Tauren and foul Elves!"

Rallying cries of the people boom with each line finished.

"From this day forth, the orcs shall take their place as the true power, the true strength of the Horde!"

Cheers of foolishness…

"From this day forth, only the proud race of the Orcish people shall be allowed within these grand walls!"

Louder the cries come.

"We Orcs are the only true warriors, soldiers, fighters of the Horde! We _are_ the Horde!"

The people have been swayed to the word of their Warchief. All of them, now, an unruly, stirred mob…

"Go forth, rid this city of all those bearing non-orcish blood! Victory for the True Horde! Victory for the New Horde! Lok'tar Ogar!"

And with that, the riled armies of amassed fanatics let forth a cheer that deafens thunder itself. Rolling stomps become a trembling earthquake. Like ants, the feverish drones scurry down the passageways, shifting out of sight but never out of mind.

As they move, vacating these halls to unleash the Warchief's undisputed laws, the grand figure himself turns towards us, his disgust lathered upon his face. For a brief, lingering moment, he gazes upon us – all efforts to destroy jaded only by his lack of telepathy.

Shaking his head, he turns from us, proclaiming "Remove them from my sight."

He marches, half-heartedly, yet bearing the aura of a victorious ruler. He marches towards his chambers. He marches, the giant, iron doors closing behind him. He marches, slowly disappearing from sight. He marches…his last words radiating for us to hear…

"_My_ Horde has no room for such…imperfections…"

Crashing doors chime, spewing disgrace, betrayal and all other elements that this moment bears. And as the dust around their base settles, the guards that once stood calm and eager now drag Jaina, Sylvanas, and Nathanos in our direction. Shifting with them is the infuriated pack of guards…

Some pull their earlier wounded brethren, while a good dozen swarm our pack, redirect us towards the exit and begin us down the walk of shame. Spinning by forced blade, I find the once jarred door now readily awaiting our exit. To the sides rest a pair of guards, their gaze humiliating at least.

We slip past the gate for the second and last time before being hurriedly shooed down the long, bleak corridor. The city's sounds echo faintly inside this chamber. Candle's flame dance within wooden holders; their illumination dulled and barely dragged by the pathetic draft that occasionally roams the hall.

_You can tell that even the fire tells you to leave…_

A rude jab redirects my focus before I am shoved onward. Slipping from the iron coffin, we are barraged by the light that dares slip past the barriers overhead. Foolishly, the rays find their way into this darkened abyss only to be trapped. All while screams and shouts fill the dismal void with equal ambience.

As we near the final arch, a strange growl trickles from nearby. What is that? A sudden chirp instantly gains my attention. Looking back at my shoulder, I am expecting the tiny fighter to be glaring at the guard to my side, but oddly, her gaze is locked with something on the ground.

I cannot help but follow her sight, and all I can seem to find is a flicker shadow that shifts to the nearby flames. Actually, its movement does seem a bit…extreme…

"Move it, human!"

Jabbing me once again, he sets me back in motion. Ahead and on the right of the path rests a large iron construct. Like the walls outside, the building is lined with vertically running spikes and other decorations suiting the new Warchief's tastes.

To our left is the unnerving metal bridge that runs over a straight drop to a most-likely gravitational demise. From here, the sounds seem as if coming from feet away – the valley a natural amphitheater.

"Dis be madness, mon!" A desperate troll howls.

"You foul pig, put me down!" Undead heroes cry from the valley below.

Swiftly, we pass the bridge dash to the front of the metal edifice and get a full, momentary view of the horrors below.

"My stuff be in dat hut, ya'monsters!" Feminine charms coat the anguished words.

Coming into sight, I can make out the path from whence we came.

A pair of trolls dart full sprint across the main square, a flood of all racesrushing only yards behind. Just below is the female troll, an orc dragging her from a nearby abode – empty-handed.

An undead merchant is grabbed upon his steed, a look of shock smothering his expression, "What is this? What are you doing?"

Before he can react, he is ripped from his mount and thrown to the dust. There, one orc grips the reins while another drags the man through the dirt. Both are moved in different directions.

"That is mine! Give me back my horse, you beasts!" His screams bounce against the walls.

"Run, bruddahs! Da orcs done lost dere minds!"

The valley fills with raging bodies.

"At least let me grab my things!" Another poor undead is shoved from the central structure – the bank from earlier.

Such unbelievable acts. Such…horrors…

"Do not resist!" An orc booms from the tower overlooking the vast chaos, "No actions shall be taken if you vacate the city as directed!"

He raises his arms.

"This is for the betterment of the Horde! This is for the New Horde and all its glory!" Screams drown the words into insignificance. "Lok'tar Ogar!"

Even his final words…mean little…

Once more, I feel a fierce jerk, and once again I am moving. Oddly, as I spin, I get a full glimpse of the unusual. Saylem is peering down at the crowd, a lone tear traveling down the side of his cheek. You would assume he would be used to unruly mobs…

_You are the king of assumptions, you ass!_

Uncontrollably, I shift through the pack as we almost jog down the winding, long, high-walled pass. Coming to Saylem's side, I almost feel compelled to see what is bothering him. I bet he misses leading the viscous pack the riot murdering, pillaging…

"No wonder I can't sleep at night," just barely does Saylem whisper to himself, "I don't deserve peace if that is what I had done…"

Woah…that was…remorseful…

I cannot even comment on that. Part of me knows I want to, but…I just cannot. Staring at him from the corner of my eye, I feel an odd sense of empathy flowing through my veins. He looks distraught, despaired. And his eyes lock with mine, he…

"What are you looking at, you ninny?"

He is still a jerk!

"Something ugly, that's what!"

Narrowing his vision, anger replaces his once human demeanor, "This is all your fault, you…you idiot! I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

"When you had the chance?" Oh, he is gonna get it, "You are too much of a coward!"

"The only thing stopping me was that cursed death knight and his pet troll!"

"Pet, mon?" Tok pivots to face the raving man.

"SILENCE!" Booming, the frontal guard lets forth a silencing volley of infuriated grunts, "No more speaking from any of you, or I swear, I will make you envy death!"

Utter silence follows – despite the roaring crowd that diminishes as the gate comes into view.

Hurriedly, we shoot down another bend before reaching the final stretch. Step by step, we near the exit. Step by step, the gate slides vertically, raining sparks and screeching despair with each inch. Step by step, the first guard departs the sacred cavern of a city once greater than time. Step by step…we leave, the shadows following our every movement, as if haunting us.

For a second time, Squeals growls at the ground, but…there is no time for that now. I do not know what insect or pest she sees, but that will have to wait. We have orders to follow, my little, vibrating friend. We have orders…

In the name of the Warchief…

Slamming behind, the barred gate is sent back into its original position. Dust drifts from the disturbed earth – the final signs of our permanent vacation. Rats, roaches, and all sorts of creatures scurry between the thick bars. Even they know that their home is no longer theirs…

"Come, we will take you to the outskirts of the lumber camp." Once again, the leading guard speaks, "From there, you can go wherever you wish."

Another orc laughs, "Yeah, go play with the Alliance and their pretty flowers. Those that remain."

Following is uniform set of laughter – each orc chuckling. It would seem that these fools' humor is as terrible as their looks. Ugly…things…

You would have them crying from shame!

Interrupting my thoughts, the baby Squeals chirps loudly. Ignoring her, I continue down the path they lead us. We quickly cross a bridge that hangs over a low river. A waterfall rests to our right, and as we step onto the crisp, crunchy grass, we redirect our route past it.

Swiftly, we march down a narrow bank that hugs a river momentarily before turning into a slight vertical incline. The grass here is thicker and darker green in color. Rich, red dirt shows signs of a hearty living environment and is much softer on the feet.

Lifting into the air, we march up the path, leaving the river below. As I look, I take in the path we march. It almost seems unnatural – like it was formed days ago. Almost like an earthquake had raised this portion itself. Possibly, something has dammed the river. No idea, I have never been here before…soooo…

_You are, once again, clueless…_

_CHIRP_

What in the world is she so focused on? Turning, I make to take in what she is so persistently following. As my head twists, I find myself locking upon a subtle movement from the orc next to Nathanos. Reaching down, the sneaky figure grabs at a large, one-handed axe that currently rests peacefully.

It would seem he is preparing for something.

Tactfully, skillfully, he detaches it from his belt, allowing it to lower to his side. The movement is all but blocked from the undead's view, but one of the curious variety could easily detect it. Good thing I am quite the wandering individual.

_You are more like a lucky fool…_

_CHIRP_

Yes, Squeals, I know the orc is readying to betray…wait…it is at this very moment, that I notice actions stirring from the same figure; however, it is not the quivering of the blade, but from the oscillating shadows flowing from its tip. Darkness drags from the drooping metal – shadows clinging upon the very air.

With every movement, the darkness pursues. With every step of ascension, the tenebrous, flat patches follow demonically. With each we near the peak of this long path – the few trees ahead leading towards an unseen route. With each step…I come to realization of the events soon to play out.

Ice frosts my veins. Wafts of numbness consume my muscles. Drumming rattles the confines of my chest. The shadows…they are moving. They are following us. They are stalking us! That means only…one…thing…

Twisting, I thrash towards Tok and bellow, "Tok, he is here!"

Instantly, the troll twists to face me, but what follows can only be described as a blur of converging events.

At the same time as the troll's movement, the leading orc spins 180 degrees towards our crowd. As if planned, the beast has in his hands his sword. Lifting it into the air, he makes for a disgraceful strike at the distracted figure.

Light reflects upon the grinded edge – the true venom of the blow. Wind drags at the strands upon its helm, the gentle current to its movement. The air itself parts as the cocked arm is sent lashing forward. The orcs were going to slaughter us after all. As long as the blood wasn't spilt within their sacred walls…

All time slows.

But even in the haze of the speeding blade, it is no match to that which has been hunting us. It is has no bearing against the wall of shadows that lunges against him. It has nothing…but forlorn ignorance…

Slamming into his body, the tendril of tenebrous clouds sends the orc flying. I follow him as he flips mid-air, all his strength naught. Water ripples as he slams into the gentle currents. He becomes a mere, faded form of his self, but he is far from forgotten. For whipping through the river's curves, is a pack of swift, aquatic beasts.

Converging upon his body, the serpent-like figures become one with the clouded orc, quickly turning the once teal tides a thick, ruby red…

"NAGA!" An orc screams from behind, "The traitors have summoned their allies! Kill them all! Kill them all! Kill…"

A scream follows fast, and I turn to see the same hollering figure sent flying. The blade is lost to the breeze until the spike of black catches it and whips it back into the crowd. The breeze of the swift strike catches my clothing, but the blade itself snags an orc in the gullet.

Lifting him, the whipping, dark limb pulls the orc into the air and sends him tumbling towards the waters below.

"The shadows…the shadows are attacking us!" An orc commences to strike at the cliff walls to our sides, "What manner of foul magic is this?"

Desperation coats his every word. He attacks the unknown and does nothing but spew forth walls of dirt and rocks. His comrades brace the walls while holding their prisoners still. They have no…idea…

Then, as one unmerciful assault, a barrage of pin-like spikes eject from the cliff, slamming into anyone unfortunate enough. Droplets of fine red gush, as the penetrating spines become pikes for their punishment. Four of the remaining orcs are thrown rearwards, their bodies lifeless before their descent -- only a spinning, drifting blade left to remember them by…

Their survivors panic, preparing for whatever may come…but they are dumbstruck as the shadows explode ahead of our pack. Bursting from the pustule of bubbling black is an armored, dark figure. He bears a thick, heavy protective suit, while a thin, frontal visor vomits red.

A warrior of the shadow…

"Finally!" A set of orcs rush foolishly forward, while Darion and Nathanos prep their blades as one should, "You cowards have shown yourselves!"

But they did not prepare for their true element. As they separate from our pack, the clouds rumble in the growing gap – soon revealing two more armored soldiers. Now, the two orcs are caught in a trap. A trap…within a trap…

Sadly, their importance is lost to the continued thrashing of the cliff walls and the emergence of three more tenebrous fighters that face us. Ready and willing, Darion, Nathanos, Greymane, and Kowl face them and in seconds, all are found in conflict.

Behind them, the tendrils continue, grabbing the two orcs holding Jaina before hastily throwing them to the wind. Swiftly, my Queen snags the wounded lady and braces her. Stupee bounces to assist, propping Jaina's leg against his pudgy buddy. Gin comes to the aid as well, giving support to the arm where Stupee could not.

Suddenly, the walls burst again, this time the figures appearing near Sylvanas and Jaina. As they land, an arch of lightning slams into their armor, sending sparks through their once glorious demeanor. More appear, but the troll is swift.

"Curse dese beasties, mon!" Tok booms as he strikes.

Taking in the sight, I let the fury of our pack stir my soul. Taking in the sight, the ambush set is naught to our might. Taking in the sight, it is clear they are no match. But as I gaze…an overwhelming sense of anxiety clutches my soul. Scanning the crowd, I quickly realize…

I have fallen behind. Standing…alone…

"PUP!" The expected voice surrounds me, "This world will never know your tale! They will never know your name!"

The shadows rile at my sides.

"They will only speak of the darkness. Their lips will quiver as they speak of light's failure! All will know…that none escapes the shadow!"

Tendrils trash in circles around me.

"Not even you, pup!"

The wind thrashes. Time becomes naught. All existence blurs. From behind, the darkness coils and strikes. From behind, the world stirs. From behind, the end comes…

"HOPE!" A call booms, but it is lost in the moment.

Metal slices against flesh. Sounds of a perfect strike radiate as bones snap and skin break. Warmth flows across my back. I wait for the weakness. I wait for the frailty. But, I can turn. I can still feel strength.

Pivoting, I find what I never dare imagined. I glance down, taking full view of the blade lodged where it was aimed. It is the same sword that the orc lost prior – its memory returning with vengeance. Thick red ooze runs the edges of the weapon, its target maimed.

The tip protrudes; the clothing tattered. My arms should be limp. My body should be lost. I should be…but it is not I that bears the burden of this blade. It is not I that is held by another's furious strength. It is not I…as my eyes drift upwards. It is…

Saylem…

His eyes navigate downwards, arms spread in dismay. He stares…lost at what just occurred. Falling, his arms lose their will, but oddly…he chuckles, blood dripping from his lips.

Navigating upwards, his eyes lock with mine, pain flowing freely, "Well…I'll be…"

He caught the blade. He stopped it. He…saved me. The same man that wished me dead now…embraces my death in his hands.

"Foolish imp!" Saylem jerks as the sword is ripped from his body. "Your actions will be in vain!"

His words are nothing to the falling figure. They are mere trickles against the eyes of the one that slams to the ground. Each word, each syllable lost to the man that rolls upon his back, all limbs twitching wildly…

"Not in dis lifetime, mon!" The ground quakes, but I do not care. "Back ta'ya prison!"

Rocks tumble into the sky, forming four walls around the Dark General. In the corner of my vision, I watch as the General is caught by the inward shifting barriers of rock. Slamming against him, the stone walls bend and roll, creating a perfect dome from which he is held. Tok has imprisoned him…but…that means nothing…

Rushing forward, I let my natural instincts guide me. One hand slips under his head. The other forms a pressured seal against the slippery wound. Come on, Hope, you have done this a thousand times.

_You…have…_

I will not lose this one.

_You…will…_

No!

"Saylem!" His entire body oscillates, fear flowing through every vein. His eyes stare towards the heavens. "Saylem, look at me…I am going to get you to Tok. He will save…"

"Hope…" his head rolls towards me, his eyes full of despair, "…can you see it?"

My lips quiver, "See what, Saylem?"

"My father told me…that in a man's last moments," he gasps briefly, "…in a man's last seconds, you can see from his eyes…"

He takes a deep breath.

"From his eyes…whether or not…he lived a full life." Wind wheezes heavily. "Or died full of regret…"

Blood drizzles down his lip, and his right leg stops all movement. I will not lose you, Saylem.

"I bet…you have seen it many'a'time, huh?" A weak smirk forms upon his face.

Sadly, I look upon him, knowing what he means, "Yes. But you are not dying, so…I cannot tell you, can I?"

The smirk expands as his left leg slows to a gentle shake.

"Hope, its ok. It was about time someone did me in…" he coughs, "…at least I won't go out the way my horrid mother said I would. Alone…"

His left leg goes limp.

"Saylem, I may not know you. At all. I may not like, you. Ok, I actually hate you…hated…you."

His torso fades in its quaking.

"Its ok, Hope, you…you…deserve to."

Suddenly, his face contorts into a spectacle of sorrow, something crossing his mind. Something…of utter importance, "I have…have…to tell you, Hope…why I tried to kill you…"

He gasps as his chest moves only to his breathing.

"Saylem…"

"No…let me do this. "

I always hear the words of the wounded; the last wishes…of the damned…

"A robed man in black came to me in my dreams. He…he…told me of the future. Of the dark, hopeless existence to come. He…told me…if I led the Knight known as Darion to the wasted plains…that I could find the source of the evil rising…"

Reaching down, he grabs my hand upon his stomach. Removing it, he lets the blood flow, but grips my palm with all fury willing. He knows his fate, and just want to know someone is there…

"And he told me…you would lead this world into that darkness." I can no longer feel his right arm. "I couldn't have that, Hope, so…so…when I saw you…I knew what had to be done…"

He coughs, his skin turning pale.

"I only wanted to make the world a bet…better place, Hope. I never…wanted…the name I earned…" his right hand slows, the twitching fading. "Forgive me, Hope. Forgive me, Darion…"

I make to speak…but…I don't know how…

It is then that his face folds. It molds into the story I have read over and over. It becomes the final page of a tale that only I get to behold. It tells the entire summary of one's existence in a matter of seconds…

"I want to be young again." His eyes navigate to the skies, blue skin lining them, his story being told, "I want a wife…and kids. I want to see my mommy…and daddy…"

His hand is barely noticeable, the last words of his final chapter read…

"I just want…to go home…"

The last word, the end written upon his face…

"I just want…to…go…home…"

Regret…

All movement stops. No more twitching. No more shaking. No more…anything. It is here, upon the soil, that life fades.

Saylem is dead…

Something inside snaps. Icy chill flows, and I move uncontrollably. Tears burst at my eye's seams, flowing wildly. Letting him fall to the dirt, I pull my spade from my back tilt it and ram it into the soil.

I have to bury him…

_You don't have time…_

I…he must be buried!

I throw a pocket of dirt; make for another scoop, but the tears block my sight. I just want to do my job! Weeping, the blade becomes heavy. I don't want this anymore. I just want to go back to and do what no one else wants to. I want to be just a gravedigger!

"Mon, come on! Dere be no time for dis!"

"Forget it, Troll, I'll get the Worm!" Nathanos shouts and footsteps follow.

I feel his bony fingers grip, but I fight. We cannot leave him here.

"Worm, stop wasting…"

Thrashing, I break free from his clutches and holler, "He has to be buried! We cannot leave him here!" My words break to my whimpers.

He makes for a second attempt, anger now plastered upon his face. But, as he moves, a grand explosion sends shockwaves across the terrain. In a flash, a fierce force collides with the left portion of my body, and I become weightless. The prison that held the beast is now an array of projectiles – one shard of which finds me directly.

Pain surges across my arm, and I make to grab at the air, but there is nothing. Nathanos reaches, but I am knocked too far. Wind coddles my back, but it does no more than snag my clothing.

"WORM!"

I feel dazed…but not confused…

My feet catch no bearing. My hands are too far for aid. Falling, there is nothing but the water beneath me and my friends above. And as I fall, those closest to me become distant memories upon a far away hill.

Slamming into the water, the chill envelops me instantly. The figures above become obscure while the frenzied serpents become clear. Sinking, I know my fate. It would seem, that in the end, the General was right. He would have me, one way or another.

But its ok, I have had enough of this. I have had enough of being the hero. I just want to sleep. I just want to be rid of the burden. As the large, multi-armed, white serpent closes in, a bow at its side, I embrace the whipping tides it creates.

Pale flesh lines the scaly arms that wrap around mine. A slithering tongue releases sinister bursts of sound – feminine in nature and design. None of it matters. It is over. I cannot be strong any more, Tok…

I am ready.

End this, so that I can be rid of the nightmares…

End this, so that I too can dream of going home…


	28. Intermission

_********INTERMISSION**********_


	29. Chapter 26: Valley of the Forgotten

I have returned, for a second chance to carve your skulls!

Um, yeah. Anywho, here is another stupidly long chapter for you to chew on. I am tired, so if anything seems off, just yell at me.

Oh, and the last chapter never happened. Yeah, denial for the win.

Enjoy.

* * *

**_"First step to becoming a true hunter, you idiots, is to make sure you plan the proper trap. More importantly, not fall into one. Especially not your own."_**

**_Nathanos Marris during his first lesson with Wrynn's troops._**

* * *

Clammy, cold claws mold against my drenched, heavy clothing. Two, white, humanoid, scaly arms align with my own, soft limbs. Swiftly, a thick, powerful tail slithers around my waist; tightening its coil with every passing second. Tightening until its body is pressed firmly against mine – the space all but naught.

Her bosom squeezes against me. Slippery flesh glides across my rough, manly skin. It is apparent, from all shapes and…features that this creature is definitely of womanly craft. And as what I assume are a second pair of hands, press against the sides of my skull, I am forced to embrace her true, feminine charms.

Dark green, supple lips pucker – a forked tongue seductively slips against them. It is as if she is hungering for me with her very quivering lips. Yearning for my soul with her oscillating, serpentine tongue. And her eyes. Her glowing, emerald eyes scream for me. Beg for my touch…

It is as if she is daring to seduce me…

"The rumors-s-s are true." A wrapping tale tugs inwards. "Your fles-s-sh, your skin…"

Uncontrolled hands alluringly glide up and down my head – the slimy hands throwing unwanted tingles across my flesh.

"I could feas-s-st on your touch forever ."

Her face draws closer to mine. As it does, my chest grows heavy. My body becomes anxious. But it is not for her. I…need air…

"Ah, s-s-sweet mortal, you s-s-seem pained." Dark emerald orbs align with mine, "Do your lung-s-s-s torment you? Do you hunger for fres-s-sh air?"

Icy cold digits dance around my eyes – their alluring ways unable to batter my strong barrier. Alas, as my will solidifies, my body wanes. Needles prick the surface of my skin as it desires proper fuel. Sweeping prongs of pain envelop my chest. Muscles tighten. Getting…light-headed…

"Come, land-dweller, let this-s-s queen…" closer still, we are but inches apart, "..s-s-show you a true…s-s-something worthy of…s-s-such a gravedigger…"

Swiftly, undesirably, the slippery serpent throws her frosty lips to mine. It is like a melting ice-cube glides across my lips while a forked tongue breaks past their mediocre seal. Her rather unpleasant touch draws me to flinching, but, to my dismay, a welcome feeling rushes past our interlocked form.

Air. Beautiful…air…

Closing my eyes, I relish in the gorgeous feeling. My lungs grow, filling marvelously. My muscles feast. My veins warm. Sadly, as I embrace the wind of life, I quickly find myself focusing upon the woman before me.

Why can't my enemies go back to trying to kill me? Why must they kiss me instead?

_You are the first man to complain about this…_

First a pale ghost goes for an improper kiss and now a giant lizard? Her tongue…it is like I am kissing a snake…

Uneasy optics shift within my sockets. Gentle waves roll across their sensitive surfaces as they make to examine my surroundings. Only the water-creature before me and lots of murky, rather filthy water to behold. Debris wafts past my eyes – what it is, no clue.

Suddenly, once calm water stirs. Curious eyes sweep all angles, and after a good second, I find what plunged into the depths. Sinking slowly, a long, wooden item is drawn downwards – it's metallic head to blame. Its large, pointed, bladed, head…

Unexpectedly, an erratic surge of purple sparks ripple from the same glistening head. And with a heavy, magenta glow, a visual pulse explodes from the said item. A shockwave snaps against the back of the beast, sends internal waves crashing across us, and furiously rips the two of us apart.

I find myself uncontrollably shooting rearwards – the explosion overwhelming. Debris slap the sides of my face while thrashing tides blind me. I do not know where I am going nor what is happening.

Something snags my left shoulder. My legs carry on with the current, but my torso is locked firmly. Forcefully, I am jerked against the slowly calming waters. Quickly, I realize that something…someone…is dragging me.

My vision returns, but not before I feel the most delightful of sensations. Breaking free of the cursed coffin, I feel fresh air brush my cheeks. Water pustules and shatters all around, crashing waves slapping my face and blurring my vision.

Another wave splashes angrily, but I must see who or what is driving my motion. Turning my sight, I see a blackened figure. More waves. Gray flesh glistens in the rippling tides. Rocks pump my legs as I reach shore. Soaked leather clings alluringly to a glorious figure.

Sweet, moist dirt slips against my body as I am tugged onto the bank. A heaving bosom and strong, elegant arms tug me to a final resting spot before dragging a menacing, firm bow to the ready. Arrows are drawn and plucked only as she can do…

All while raging, ruby eyes burn a ravenous fury. Sylvanas…

"You were the last…" Just barely am I able to throw those words between her gentle, furious strikes.

Without looking, she angrily blurts, "Shut it, you idiot! I would have left you to your lizard if that troll wasn't so persistent!"

I make to speak, but a sudden tightened chest, pulsing vision and flashing teal wears my spirit. It is getting worse. Taking slow, deep breathes, I use this time to peruse the poor individuals caught in the Queen's path.

Instantly, I find a pair of naga floating upon the now calmed waves. Beneath the surface, the same serpents dart wildly, stirring the muck below in efforts to blind her. Unfortunately for them, and the numbers gathering at the water's surface, she is not fooled so easily.

"Flithy reptiles! This lady will turn the tides red!"

Arrows rip the water.

"She will vanquish your efforts, mangle your hopes, and slaughter your spirits!"

Lifeless snakes bubble upon frenzied waters.

"Terror of the Tides, this Queen will bestow upon you fear!" Pluck, pluck, pluck, "Grant you death!" Pluck, " And…"

Silence.

Suddenly, the once raving queen becomes lost in the commotion. I twist, quickly finding my soul sapped of strength. Thrashing, grunting, struggling is my Lady…the shadows consuming her legs, back, and upper shoulders. Her bow…lost in the darkness…

"Sylvanas!" I stand fast, but once again…my chest tightens, green fades in, out, and I find myself upon my knees.

My eyes lock with her entangled, fighting form. She makes to shout, but a tenebrous tendril has her lips locked. One arm is trapped in the cliff that holds her while another is outstretched – fine desperate digits directed outwards.

Uncontrollably, I hurl my hand towards hers. She slips rearwards, the stone wall devouring her; the shadows dragging her inwards. With all stretch, my fingers draw to hers. Backwards out of reach. Closer. I almost have you!

Slowly, all that remains is her one hand, her chest, and her beautiful face – golden strands gleaming. Pulling to my feet, I slip in the mud. My hand draws nearer. Revealed are her face and last arm. Closer…but it is not enough. And, in a display of horror and sorrow…the lady is sucked into the cliff…

The shadows are her anguish to bear.

As the despair of the moment dares to settle upon me, a deep surge of unrelenting energy builds within. An unruly self reaches back, all focus upon the growing fuel within. Rage stirs beneath the surface, and I will not contain it.

Deep, rumbling hisses roll from behind – their assailant obviously halted. Gripping my spade, I let the fury consume me…

Kill them, Hope. Kill them all…

Swinging, blade moving at a long, furious arch, I let forth my fury. My arm leads the assault, my eyes following. Slowed briefly, I feel my weapon slice into its prey – my eyes seconds behind. Thick, heavy, reddish blood seeps from the cleaved artery.

Slimy, green scales shake violently, as the massive, manly serpent is cut in its path. And as its wound pours, the creature's uncaring leader shoves him aside. It falls to the soil, coating the lively grass with its demise. Slithering forward…the horrid mermaid-gone-wrong approaches, fear lacking.

"Foolis-s-sh child! I s-s-shall enjoy ripping the s-s-skin from your bones-s-s!"

Arms locked, spade at the ready, I make to deliver to this wretched foe the end deserving, but fate intervenes. Muscles tighten, chest locks, edges of reality pulsate before my arms grow weary and my blade slips from overhead. Mud sloshes as the once directed blade sunders the moist soil.

My eyes lock with her. It is all that I find myself capable of. She confidently wriggles onward. With each movement, with each flicker of tainted earth, all I can see is my Queen's face. With every inch made, all I can imagine is her predicament. With each shuffle…all I can taste is her fate…

"S-s-so much fun we will have together, little one!" Pellucid eyes glisten within, while a tongue spews forth serpentine-toned phrases, "I s-s-shall make this-s-s las-s-st forever, you tas-s-sty mors-s-sel!"

Four, firm arms bend, lock, and ready to strike. Forked tongue batters the air. Famished fangs sparkle with strands of glistening saliva. She senses her prey's weakness. And she will have no mercy…

Unexpectedly, a new, recognizable feminine call rains, "Azshara, you are truly a foul temptress, aren't you?"

Twisting, I make to see what speaks. Rolling, black tendrils crawl along the fine curves of a pale-white woman. They hug closely to her hips and upper chest, yet flow freely around the rest of her person – allowing for plenty of flesh to be exposed.

_You know it doesn't leave a whole lot to the imagination…_

"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to play with your food?" She folds her arms, thin, black streaks lagging behind her delicate, near-gleaming skin, "Or at least to swallow your meals whole?"

"Flithy harlot!" Harsh hisses slip from her lips, "This-s-s boy belongs-s-s to me!"

The shadow woman shifts to my side, her arm blocking part of me – her line of dominance marked.

"Is that so?"

"Your mas-s-ster knocked him into my domain. Your mas-s-ster threw him to the tides-s-s!" Rage radiates from her shifting body – rocking to the sides as if a true serpent.

"Well, if my Lord truly gave him to you, he wouldn't have done so without proper regards." Oddly, she reaches for something in her nonexistent sleeve, "He would have most definitely departed upon him a gift suiting…"

Swiftly, she twists towards me, her glowing, sinister eyes drawing my sight. Alas, her elegant movements distract me from the glinting blade grasped in her hand…

"Let me correct his mistake…"

With speed unmatched, the arm catapults forward. Metal slices flesh. Death careens past all blockades of life. I can feel the dagger pierce deep…and true. I can feel my arms go numb. I can feel my body go limp – all life fading.

Directly in my heart…

"Pois-s-son? Pois-s-son! You s-s-spoiled him! The child was-s-s perfect! Now hi-s-s blood is-s-s tainted!" As she speaks, the right side of my body slams into the mud.

My eyes still function, but the rest of me withers. This is…a nightmare. I do not know what she has done to me, but this isn't death. This isn't the same, horrific set of events that precedes the finale of all. What has she done?

Infuriated, the sea-witch twists back towards the waters, hissing and spitting hate as she moves, "S-s-such a perfect feas-s-st…ruined! Curs-s-se upon you!"

She comes to the bank's edge, "Damn you! Damn you and your twis-s-sted s-s-shadow-s-s!"

Leaping, she plunges towards the water, but not without throwing the last lines.

"You will regret this-s-s, Mis-s-stres-s-ss! All of you will!"

And at that, leaving behind my mangled, helpless form, she departs, vanishing into the murky waters below. My eyes roll in their sockets, my focus oddly planted upon the remaining woman. Upon her is where my remarkable sense of determination lands.

Focused…yet…broken. What has she done to me?

"I hate that creature." Pivoting, the shadows barely cling to her features, "And as for you…"

Those same tenebrous, twisting tendrils trickle across the soil and roll upon my tender flesh. Each spike pricks at my skin and devours my being. Not again. I will not go back into your world! Do something, Hope! Stare her down!

"Forgive me, darling, but I gave you fair warning." Swiftly yet majestically she almost glides to my side, kneeling to wrap her fingers around my skull, "Only I knew how to end you, hero."

She draws her face close to mine, my eyes keenly align with hers…as darkness devours my body.

"Don't let it come between us…" Bright lips quiver inches away, "…I'll keep it to myself."

Oscillating eyes sweep side to side, perusing my soul as the shadows form a cap upon my head. And as it slowly consumes my vision, my nose, and my mouth…she speaks one last time…

"I promise…"

Icy chills course across my lips as her unseen, puckered pustules of soft skin press against mine. Darkness envelops all – becomes all I know. At least…in my last moments I shall know the sensual thrill of a sweet, merciless banshee. If only she was my Queen. If only…

"Hope…" her voice still calls to me. "Goldfish…"

She still sounds so angry and seems so close. Oh, how I would love to hold you.

"What are you doing?" Wait…that sounds too real, "…What is this?"

Suddenly, I feel the lock break and a warm sensation caress my body. Drifting across my closed eyes, a weak, illuminated aura brightens my eyelids. It is resemblant of a dull, clouded sun upon a blocked pair of orbs.

_You better not open your eyes…_

Don't do it Hope…

"Good job, Worm." Pain suddenly surges down my back, and, to my dismay my eyes part and…

Before me stands a pair of interlocked women. One Banshee Queen has the Shadow Mistress' arm clutched behind her back. A fine, glinting dagger sparkles brightly against the pale flesh. Two faces are but inches apart – both gorgeous figures eyes almost touching.

Both stare at each. One gazes rearwards, pupils to the sides. The other, ruby beams gleaming, stares straight ahead, yet the fire pulsates solely for me.

So much…sexy…hatred…

_You are a man of odd fetishes. You know that, right?_

Now, if only my back didn't hurt so much. Rolling my eyes in my head, I barely notice an undead figure looming over me. His shadow stretches across my chest while a long, lanky leg rests near my spine. He kicked me…

"Worm." He nudges me with his boot, "You sick of walking? Just gonna lay there? Too worn out to properly welcome yourself? Shameful, Worm."

Once more his leathery footwear presses against my back.

"Worm, get up!" He leans forward, his face in full view, "I grow tired of looking down at you…"

Narrowed eyebrows express disgust and frustration. Impatiently, the orbs drift from my face and instantly land upon the anomaly of my person. As he comes to my chest he has his revelation.

With but a mere glimpse, he absorbs all that is necessary. A long leg glides over me, and in a flash he removes the axe from his side, and menacingly makes his way to the shadow woman.

"I do not know what you did to the insect, wench, but the sheer fact of your foolishness is enough…" lifting the jagged edge to her face, he lets her know his stance, "…hold still, I want to alter that pretty face of yours. Don't worry. I have had experience with face-mutilation."

I do not have to see to know he is smirking…

"Look, I did my own. Great, isn't it?"

She sighs, "And you wonder why the world hates you…undead creatures." Her eyes motion towards Sylvanas before quickly locking with his, "You take to brashness as fiercely as you do rashness."

Once again, she exhales as if bored.

"Maybe if you tried some rational kindness, or directed diplomacy then you wouldn't be so…Forsaken…"

The blade at her neck scratches against the pale flesh, "Such wise words. If we follow them, "the ruby gems sweep the shrouded figure, "could I get a matching sinister, swirling shadow suit?"

A triumphant set of lips fold for all to feast upon. Such beauty…

_You seem rather focused for being…stabbed._

Diverting my eyes is the call of Tok as he interjects between the entrapped three, "Crystal, mon, it been a long time."

I think he is talking to the shadow woman. Wait, why he is so cordial with her?

"How ya been, mon?"

Still firmly locked in Sylvanas' grasp, she looks over to the troll that is marching my way, "Not bad. Not bad at all."

Sylvanas lessens her grip as confusion cakes upon her face. Nathanos removes his axe from her cheek and twists to gawk at Tok as if an enthralled puppy. Both of them expressing their utter amazement of the situation. I don't blame them; I would be wearing the same thing if I could feel anything.

Tok nods as he trots rather calmly my way, "I see ya done got da poison and used it already. Nice, mon."

"Was simple enough."

"Excellent, mon." The troll comes to stop, his eyes apathetically gazing at my crippled form, "So, Crystal, how be Conrad?"

Nathanos gazes back to the Queen of whom shrugs. Anyway, go back to the poison. That previous part, go back to it. No, stop walking towards me, troll. Listen to my…eyes. The poison! Bah! Does it look like tea time? Help me, troll!

He simply gazes down upon me as the woman continues on.

"Same old blind man that we have always known." From the corner of my keenly aware optics I see her shake her head despite the blade, "Which seems to be a bit different from you, I must say."

"Why ya say dat, mon?"

"Well, you were one for cunning, elaborate, self-promoted and self-aware plots." She pauses briefly, "It would seem that you are currently…lacking…"

Tok kneels before me, his concern for the woman now naught. However, as he peruses my wound and body, he smirks and speaks.

"Ah, yes, ya be talk'n bout how we got here, eh?"

"Yes, but, where is the soul? Where is the other human?"

Tok frowns, "There were…complications wit Conrad. He killed…"

"Woah!" Nathanos interrupts finally, "Hi? Did I miss this royal invitation of jackassery or am I not elite enough to join?"

Sylvanas' eyes display only confusion and utter rage. Letting go of the woman, she throws the pale figure to the side and angrily stomps towards Tok.

"Troll, "her words are wrapped in raging hatred, "what is going on here? How do you know this…filth… and what are you yapping about? Conrad? Poison?"

She glares at…Crystal…before raining visual death back upon Tok.

"Answer me, troll!"

Tok sighs, closing his eyes as if perturbed by the clearly rational questioning, "Lady, mon, it be long'n'complicated. We don't got time to explain…"

Instantly she halts, erects to her common, commanding stance and pierces his soul with her narrowed brow and a penetrating stare.

"Feel free to make some time, troll." Each word stammers as her uncontainable contempt is spewed forth, "Speak, now."

Up righting himself, Tok adjusts himself in best efforts to comply with furious Lady. Oddly, a rather unfamiliar expression of annoyance molds upon his teal flesh.

"Fine, mon, if ya gonna be so dang persistent…" he twists, a growing sense of frustration coating his brow, "Dat woman dere be Crystal, and she be a spy fo dose unda da banner of da Titans."

His eyes take a glimpse at the shadowy woman that is slowly leaving the pack, heading for something unseen. Yeah, just leave. We aren't important…

"She be help'n us, an'she be give'n us wat we need." He throws his hand in complete contempt, "Dat be…"

"Real helpful, troll." Nathanos interjects, "now the whole picture is painted for…"

"Shut it, mon!"

A roaring boom silences the undead and sends mild tremors from his very location.

"Ya want a whole pictah, mon?" An infuriated troll stares the two undead down, "here be a picturah, bruddahs! Dere be an army unlike any oddah dat be marching upon us as we speak. Da boy here be minutes away from falling into darkness, an'da woman ovah'dere has less den an hour before she be dead."

Somewhere in the ranting he throws his arm in the direction Crystal departed…

"We gotta make it ta'a'propah meeting spot predetermined ta'save da boy and stop da rise of da darkness! Dat be da picturah, mon!" He pauses, his eyes wildly darting between the two, "An'in dis picturah are two, tiny dots. Puny smudges upon da sea of turmoil. Ya two! Ya two be nuttin, mon! Nuttin."

Silence sweeps us all. Heavy breathing radiates from the agitated troll. Grit teeth grind fiercely. Lips oscillate as he attempts to quell the hurricane unleashed. He sighs, closes his eyes, and relaxes.

That was…intense…

"You finished, Tok? You feel better now?" Nathanos calmly yet firmly decides to speak, "Want a hug? Hope is right there, he is always up for hugs. Even if he is paralyzed."

Nathanos shrugs.

"Heck, it would be like hugging a warm, defluffed teddy bear. Go ahead. Try it."

Tok makes to speak, but is overwhelmed by the audacity and strangeness of the comment. Honestly, I wouldn't know what to say. That was weird even for me.

The troll opens his mouth, pauses then promptly shakes his head before swiftly walking away. A stiff staff rips holes in the soil as he moves, rage evident. Shoulders shift to the beat of his feet. He leaves us for reasons unseen, but definitely felt. Stress does do that to a man.

_You wouldn't have a clue._

After a few seconds, he drifts to the limits of my vision. It is there, just before he disappears from sight, that I see two figures kneeling before a slumped individual. Darion, Crystal, and Jaina.

Suddenly, I feel pressure upon one and then the other arm. I am lifted fiercely, my head bobbing. Positioning me, the undead duo gets me into a posture suiting their needs prior to dragging my limp legs through the grass while I look from a downward cocked head. Oh yeah, this is comfortable.

_You should be happy you are even moving, limpy!_

Now I get a clear picture of the three together. It would seem we are missing a few. Inquisitively, my orbs begin the hunt for the rest of our pack, but to no avail. Where are…

"Where is Tiny and Gigantuar?" Nathanos grunts, "Oh, and his two snobolds?"

Darion's eyes shift and his head is almost positioned exactly like mine. Of course, his is controlled; I am just a human rag doll.

"Nathanos, they are up the path Tok was forced to head towards." His eyes drift back to the wheezing, pained woman, "Lest he smash your insolent skull."

"There wasn't going to be any skull smashing, Death Knight." We stop a few feet behind the back of the Shadow mistress – she too leans over Jaina, "That was simply a conversation between men."

"Quite the bloviate, aren't you, undead?" He speaks to him without looking, "Our troll is simply wise enough to comprehend your ignorance."

Pain rushes from where a set of bony figures tense. Nathanos, you are still holding me!

"Death Knight, do not…"

"Enough, you two!" Sylvanas intervenes, "Let us compose ourselves. No need nor desire necessary for more bickering."

She sighs heavily, "Focus your hatred upon the wounded and harness your rage for the battles to come."

Silence follows. And at that, the argument is done. She has a way with words.

"How is she?" A sense of caring coats the Queen's words.

A flat, pale palm hovers inches over Jaina's chest and glides the span of the body as the shadowy woman speaks,

"The poison is remarkable. It…it is almost as potent as a brew I would concoct, yet shares no moral boundaries that a sane crafter might follow."

She falls back upon her legs, sighing heavily, "The vile venom is fusing with her very person. It is…eating her alive, figuratively -- though, almost quite literally."

"Why doesn't Tok fix it? He is all knowing and wise aged Kodo." Sarcastically, Nathanos speaks.

"Shamans, more or less, draw the dastardly design from your veins. Almost as if sucking it from your body. Doing so here would kill her." She slowly comes to her feet, "Our needs call for more of an abolishment of the death."

Darion takes note and carefully scoops Jaina into his arms as the pale woman continues.

"We need a druid."

"And where might we buy one of those?" Nathanos once again.

"Tauren were banished from permanent residence of this area, and most are preoccupied by the factional fueding to the west." Finally, she throws her head towards us, "Fortunately for you, your kodo has already requested for the grandest of them all."

"Marvelous, more scheming and blind navigation. Just how I like it!"

She turns her shoulder towards the commander, "One thing you must know about Tok is he develops his perfect plans upon the basis of standards you will never understand. Alas, he also veils them like an eclipsing moon to its sun."

She pauses.

"You get pieces, but the whole is lost within." Her eyes break from us, staring at something only her mind can conjure, "For the last time he shared his design, it was almost the end of us all."

Nathanos makes to speak, but is quickly beaten by the woman, "Sadly, I must leave you. The General is close, and I have tarried enough."

A swirling frenzy of black envelops a bright white figure, "Be strong, heroes." A mesh of black and white slowly become one, "May your light end the coming darkness."

She is all but consumed, lest for the beaming, gray eyes that burn through the shadows.

"Farewell."

And at that, she is naught. Left behind is a pack of bemused, lost champions. Once again, I am confused. No surprise here, though.

_You said it._

Darion pivots and hastily marches towards Tok, "Come, let us ride the solar flares of his design towards whatever ends he has so crafted."

Woah. That was…something…

"Wonderful, I always wanted to drag Worm while at the whim of a teal troll." I feel him shrug, "But I guess I can't be too harsh on him. He hasn't killed us yet, so…I will give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Good'ta see ya accepting, undead." Tok speaks as we move upon him the two glare at each as they have many a time.

Both convey a sense of hatred, yet seem to speak to each other. Without saying a word, the two batter out some sort of mental arrangement. Without saying a word, their faces relax and all prior circumstances naught. It is like they have done this before...

And once Tok's normal expression returns, his eyes navigate towards me, "Ah, bruddah, ya be in fa'a real treat!"

His voice rings of joy – as if nothing had ever happened, "We gonna fix that wacky soul of yas, mon!"

Hooray! And now I too forget what we were talking about.

"Ah, mon, sorry bout…ya…body," he twirls a lone digit at my crumbled form, "da poison be a mind-soothing one, mon. It done weaken da body but strengthen da mind! Thankfully, it done slow da progression inta'da limbo. And, as long as da source, da daggah, stays in ya body, it be all good."

Troll, I would show you how happy I am right now if I wasn't…physically dead…

"And now, bruddah, upon a stage we done set up, we gonna fill dat…" he throws his hands to his chest, waving them as if to silence himself, "…no time fa talk'n, mon! Come on!"

Like a gleeful little child, he trots up the short incline. Quickly, I am dragged behind him and in seconds we come upon a natural "T" intersection molded by the cliff walls and strengthened by the looming mountains before us.

"Ta'da right, bruddahs!" Oddly, as we come to the edge of the route, a fine, sweet melody rains down upon us. "Dere will be a welcoming partying, bruddahs!"

We near the edge and the music grows.

"Da Protect'ah will be wait'n dere! Malfurion himself will great ya, Hope!"

Closer.

"We end dis…"

With each passing second, the sound intensifies. With each step taken, the finely played tone fills our soul. With every shifting movement, the song calms the spirit. It almost sounds like a violin…or fiddle.

_You know your instruments._

I have always had liking for such stringed...tools…

Turning the corner, I feel my stomach sink. A weak, yet still activating heart numbly thuds within its padded confines. Eyes shift upon the scene…

"No, mon!" Tok flinches, the sight behind his belief, "Dis...dis cannot be..."

Littering the ground are figures of all sorts: humans, dwarves, every race imaginable. Upon each one is a thick, white sheet that hugs their torso. Intermingled with them are massive, scaly creatures – their lifeless bodies covered in pulsing runes. He moves forward, the field of broken bodies slowing his every step.

Amidst the small valley are the ones we were missing; Greyman, Kowl, Brann, Stupee and his rider Squeals all gathered around a slumped figure upon the firm soil. It is then the source of the music is revealed.

Standing over them, playing the music of death, is the old man Gin. Why is he playing music? Actually, you know what, I don't want to know. Let him play, it is better than a dagger to the chest.

"Everybody, mon, dey got everybody!" Tok shifts through the battle scene, hurriedly making his way to the other half of our squad, "Tell me, who done dis!" Hatred radiates, but is masked by a heavy sense of shock.

Promptly, the two undead come to a sprint, allowing for my body to bounce and smack the bodies below us. Yeah, this is…great…

Kowl turns back towards, "This is how it was when we got here." He motions towards the man upon the dirt, "He was the only we could…"

"Tok!" A raspy, mescaline voice rains, "Is…that you?"

"Captain!" Tok firmly plants his feet and squats before the speaking figure.

Nathanos shifts me towards the character and gives us a proper position. At our feet is a bluish, rather lengthy man. Heavy, brown leather is strapped upon his tall, bulky self while feathers of all sorts give add to his girth. It is a night elf…

"Druid, wat happened here?"

"The Dragons…the dragons, Tok. We arrived…set up the stone as told," he coughs, "and the dragons…they went berserk. A third of us were annihilated before we knew what was happening…"

Heavy air seeps into punctured lungs. He wheezes while his flesh turns a light blue. Death comes for him…

"It is…a trap…" he gasps, "Forgive me, Tok. I have...failed you..."

The last pocket of air slips past his lips before darkness' embrace takes hold. And, as quickly as we met, he departs. But where he goes, only time controls the door of entry. Inevitable death. Sleep well, druid. Sleep well.

Tok sighs and places his hand upon the dead man's face. His eyes scan the field of broken bodies and he lets each fallen comrade fill his soul. He lets each broken body fuel him. He lets the fallen stir him into action.

"Let his death and deres not be in vein, bruddahs." Three, long fingers sweep closed a set of lifeless eyes, "Darkness done got me bruddahs…but we must be strong! We must finish wat was started here!"

He jumps to his feet, "Quit wit da music mon!" Lanky arms point at an aged man and at a stone riddled with vines and moss simultaneously, "Get Hope on da rock! I will handle da rest, mon!"

Gin swiftly ceases his music while the two flop me upon the stone like a slab of raw meat. The two shift to my side, but only one stays as Nathanos becomes distracted by the field of death around him.

Oddly, taking his place is the old man. His eyes are fixated upon me, his focus squarely the blade in my chest. That is rather creepy, if I do say so myself…

"Lad. what are ye gonna do?" Brann speaks nervously from my side. "We won't be able to stop any sort of real engagement."

"Have faith, bruddah. Like dey do in us. We gotta let our heroes here do dere job." His eyes navigate to those around us. Is he saying he actually trusts us? Probably not, but it close enough.

And taking to his words of encouragement, the Lady acts.

"Form a perimeter, you apes!" Sylvanas shouts, "Make sure that if anything is still alive that it doesn't have a chance to surprise us! I am not ending up like blue, over there."

And, like good soldiers, I hear movement around me – the troops taking position. Tok shifts into view near my feet, a large book in his hand. He plants himself perfectly between my shoes and throws me a nod.

"Mon, wat about to happen is gonna rock ya world." He glances down towards the pages, and lifts one hand into the air, "Gonna send ya ta'da dream fa'a'moment, but don't ya worry…wat be dere won't do ya no harm. Trust me for he be da one dat will be fix'n ya."

I would argue, but considering I think I will just go with it. Sounds good.

Throwing me a nod, he notions that he is about to begin whatever he is planning. Suddenly, he begins chanting in some unknown language. Each word seems to run into the next. Whatever he is speaking is not recognizable, and I have heard a lot of incomprehensible speak before.

Unexpectedly, my vision pulsates. Blurred boundaries ripple and a thick, greenish haze grows with each word spoken. The canopy overhead is shrouded by a heavy, emerald hue that thickens into a blackened sky.

I can feel my…body…again.

"Welcome, my child." Three words boom as if coming from the heavens. The voice is hearty, aged and calming to the ears. A masculine voice that soothes the soul, "We have been expecting you."

Rolling on my back, I quickly find myself falling and slamming into the soil below. I throw my sight upwards before leaping to my feet. Heart racing. Muscles flexing. Adrenaline flowing. Relax, Hope…relax…

Taking a deep breath, I calmly absorb my surroundings. The haze here is brackish, and the field of view is unbelievably short. Emerald glaze runs to the "T" intersection before quickly fading into a wall of black. But before that, lined up perfectly, their eyes upon me, are a good hundred soldiers bearing the same armor and look as the felled individual that spoke to us.

_Mon, listen close, dis be Tok!_

Woah! I flinch to his sudden voice. What are you doing in my head?

_Only ya'n da Guardian can hear me, mon. I be using ya to speak to him_

Really? Am I your personal walkie-talkie? Great. Like I need another voice in my head…

"Grand shaman, I see you have arrived." Once again, the smooth voice thunders calmly. It comes from behind. "I take it everything is going well on your side?"

_No, mon. All da soldiers are lost…and Malfurion is nowhere ta'be found, mon._

"Apologizes, Shaman, his predicament eluded my thought." I twist slowly, "Enluzen has complicated his circumstances and state of mind. I had his love deliver his weary form to the waters of the World Tree."

_Great, mon. Da ya have enough men wit', mon?_

"Worry not, Shaman, the druids here shall satiate for the skirmish ahead."

Fully turned, I let a set of four, massive, brown legs fill my sight. Branches jut from the limbs while the skin itself resembles crinkled tree bark. At the base of each one is a large, grayish hoof that is easily half my height…

"Ultimately, as long as our hero here can withstand the Ritual, then all concerns are miniscule."

Traveling upwards, I let a thick, teal torso consume my thoughts. A bright, jade light ripples from his body as if his person is a star itself. The humanoid chest runs to a set of equal arms. One hand retains the shape resembling that of the Night Elves while the other molds into what appears to be an ochre set of doubly large fingers – almost like long roots.

"Greetings, little one." The voice draws me to its face. A perfectly crafted Night Elf face shines like the rest of him before twisting into a set of massive, brown antlers. "It is an honor…"

He lifts the root-hand into the air, "Hope Blackwood."

"Who…are...you?" Just barely am I able to speak.

"Forgive my rudeness, hero. Haste has stricken me dumb." As he speaks, a heavy, bright-green glow forms a circle around the stone, "I have many a name…"

Bursting into the sky, the ring becomes a towering wall that burns white before darkening into a gorgeous teal.

"But you may call me…"

Flickering flames lick the skies, their beautiful hue almost as mesmerizing as the giant's voice.

"Cenarius."

Twisting, disbelief gets the better of me, "THE Cenarius? No way, I have read books about you! Lets of books! Like…four!"

He chuckles, his laughter like a rolling breeze, "Flattered, Hope. And I am not ignorant of your blight either. We beings of druidic nature have followed you, protecting you beneath the crust of your reality's sight. So, in essence, your presence here is almost overwhelming."

Incredible! Cenarius just…complimented me with…words!

_You certainly have a way with them too. Ya, mon, ya be a real wiz wit dem too…_.

Such excitement! Such glee! This is amazing. Here I am, standing amongst a field of druids with the Guardian himself watching over me. I feel special! It is…

Ruined, my joy is shattered by a sudden rumbling. The world quakes violently. Reaching out, I grasp the stone slab as the trembling throws the lot of us off balance.

"Shaman!"

_Mon, dere be an explosion! Fires, fires ovah'da mountains, mon!_

"Be precise, Tok, what is stirring even the dream into frenzy?"

_Flames be lickering da, heavens, mon! Sometin…sometin' is burning near da World Tree!_

"Impossible! I sealed that haven personally! No such evils could dare defile the Tree's sanctity!"

I slowly pull myself up amidst the tremors. Suddenly, my chest tightens and my legs buckle. A fierce pain ripples across my chest, and I fall to my knees…

"Hope!" The Guardian calls to me…but…

Green fades to gray.

Filling my sight are the mountain ridges the troll spoke of. A towering red wall strikes mercilessly at the blue ceiling above it. The shaking lessens, but a rhythmic thudding sound still sounds mild aftershocks across the small chasm we are found within.

"I am guessing that isn't of our doing, eh?" Greymane calls from behind…

Intense pain snaps at my chest. Throwing my eyes downward, I feel nausea grip over me. Standing over my body, a hand wrapped around the blade in my chest is the old man. Lathered upon his face is a sinister…malicious…smirk…

"Wakey, wakey, Hero."

My entirety reels as a dagger born of good's intentions is removed from my form. Life stirs in my limbs, but all I can manage is to hurl my torso upwards – arms drawn into my body as if I am having a seizure.

Teeth bite down. Muscles lock. Come on, Hope! Ignore the pain!

I watch as the old monster slips past our distracted pack, his task all but completed. So much pain. So much anguish…but…justice…

"TOK!" Yelling, I gain focus of a shocked Troll.

Throwing his head around wildly, he absorbs my person before his eyes widen. He cannot speak. He knows what just occurred and spins for the culprit. Instantly, he finds Gin slinking towards what appears to be a massive Tree with a set of giant, stone steps before it.

It is then that I am given full sight of the bodies lining the steps and the swirling, red portal at the top.

"Mon, wat have you done?" Dismayed, he hollers, catching another's attention.

"Gin, where are you going?" Kowl screams at the old man, "What…"

"Bruddah, he betrayed us! He took da blade from da child! He has damned us all, mon!"

"No. No!" Pain subsiding, I find myself weakening again – barely able to hold myself up as Kowl continues, "Gin, you…didn't…"

Our traitor marches triumphantly, throwing the dagger to the dirt as he plants his feet. Such confidence. Such…

"So many years wasted. So much time spent. For…you!" His sight locks upon Greymane, "Every waking moment squandered for your betterment! Everything for my King!"

Hatred forms upon a mangled frown. "And not a single second for me! Not a fleeting fancy for my music, for my talents!"

Kowl replies for his dumbstruck King, "Gin, you monster, how could you? Greymane may be a selfish twit, but you sold your soul to the Dark Titan!"

Gin spits upon the soil, "The Dark Titan knows nothing of the being wise enough to recognize my talents! The Dark Titan knows nothing…of Vengeance!"

Kowl grasps his sword, readying to lunge forth at his friend turned foe, but…a deep, disturbing call sends shivers down my spine.

"How right he is. How right…he…is." The malicious voice booms louder than ever. Yet as it does, I am lost to the thudding that intensifies. Like footsteps…from behind…

Gin's shadow molds and twists…raising into the dark form we know too well.

"Foolish troll, did you think your little plan went unnoticed? Did you think my master has plotted and schemed for eons to falter at your whim?" Hunched, bulky shoulders are shrouded by a thrashing, lively cape, "Did you think he would fail so foolishly?"

Heavy armor glistens as if an unseen light is flashed upon it.

"Did you think you were to be triumphant?"

A metallic face hides the growing voice, the increasing fury of the bearer…

"You fail to realize, the end is upon you! As we speak, the third seal is shattered! The Firelord ascends upon your holy shrine!"

"Da World Tree's destruction will not be our end, mon!"

He laughs, the cape expanding, allowing for dark soldiers to march upon the tainted soil.

_Thud. _More thunderous stomps from behind.

"Fool! It shall suffice in drawing the planet's champions to its aid! It shall shroud Azeroth long enough to free my master."

_THUD_. It is louder than ever…whatever it is approaching from the "T".

"The world will never know you all perished upon these grounds…"

_THUD. _So close…

"The world will never know…the darkness unleashed this day…"

And as his words finish, I catch sight of Nathanos, his eyes locked upon something on the ground behind me.

"The druid didn't say it _was_ a trap…he said it _is_…"

"We must retreat! We must…" Greymane pivots, but is stopped short as a weak tremor sends shockwaves upon us "My word…"

"Too late, you lumoax. Too late…" Nathanos' eyes drift upwards, finding a new source of distraction.

Booming, a voice rolls across the lands like the crackling of a raging inferno, "Commander…Nathanos…Blightcaller…"

Rolling my head across the stone, I look to see what is happening…

"One year ago you set me ablaze. One year ago, you sent me to the tides to perish. And one year ago…my master…came to me…"

Towering in the sky is a mangled monster of nightmare's design. A massive set of tree-trunk legs are riddled with scorch marks. Burnt twigs jut in all directions as I come to the pitch-black torso. Red embers radiate from the charred body, while gray arms reach towards the ground – fingertips pulsating black to red.

Upon its shoulders is a small, round head surrounding by wafting ash – as if he is constantly burning. Amidst the darkness is a pair of beady, glowing, embers. They glow brighter amongst the darkness…adding to his already horrific demeanor.

"And now, I return, more powerful than before!" He vomits dark ash from his mouth as he speaks, "General of Corruption! Leader of Nature's demise!"

As he speaks, dark, twisted saplings burst from the soil. Each one's design mangled and unsightly – the leaves withered and core tainted.

"And I return…with Vengeance…"

With those words, he hurls his leg forward, slamming into the ground. Dozens of twisted beasts grow from his step, building a small army in his wake.

"You see, heroes, the finale of your little play is upon you." The General whips a dozen soldiers to his side, the trap set. "Let the curtains of darkness give you closure."

Standing before us is an army, proud and true. They spawn with their entry a host of fear and despair. But even in these dark times, it takes more than sheer numbers to bring us to cowering...

Lifting his Axe towards the heavens, Darion draws a torrent of spiraling, dark energies upon its blade, "If it is numbers you have come to rely on, General, then you come sporting an advantage we Death Knights have known far too well!"

Slamming his blue blade into the dirt, he sends forth a purplish shock-wave that rolls across the small pocket of death. The ground trembles. Swirling pockets of black form pillars upon the broken corpses. Mixing within the dark spires of shifting power spins a magenta hue -- the combination hypnotizing and terrifying. And as the world trembles, those once felled know life once more...

As the army of the undead...

Dozens upon dozens of twisted corpses rise to their feet -- fresh wounds still glistening their recent ends. Shifting into line, our small force is filled with vast numbers of all races, or all species ready for both Generals of this entrapment.

"Alliance, horde, dragons, beasts, demons alone know only strife and mindless feuding." Darion rolls his shoulders back and takes a proud stance, "But bring them death...and they become one. The only words the Lich King spewed as truth..."

"The Lich King?" Laughing, the Dark General tilts backwards in hysteria, "That insect knows nothing of power. He knew nothing of strength. But you are correct, you embraced one truth."

Strands of cape whip wildly, its hunger yearning, "It is not death you should fear, and the Lich King knew that all too well. For you see...with his dying breath he saw only darkness..."

A rolling cloak twists at its base the portion near his rear curtailing over his head, "He embraced the shadows..."

Tendrils trash in an arch around the being, "He knew his only fear..."

Flinching, they prepare to strike, "He only knew...MY POWER!"

Launching is a barrage of precise, sinister projectiles. The once twitching cape becomes a wall of jagged spikes. Undead are ripped to pieces and thrown to the air. Marauding warriors born of black stampede forward. A death knight charges, his remaining minions more than sufficient. At his side rushes Kowl, Greymane and the trigger happy Brann. Tok stands steadfast, his position directly opposite of his nemesis.

The two engage in mental warfare as the world around them stirs the physical...

"Come, Commander, let me show you my new might!" Trembling earthquakes rumble from behind.

As I twist, my chest tightens, and it becomes hard to breath. Edges of my reality ripple and skew as two undead heroes rain a volley of arrows while a tiny, blue creature is ridden by the little orange champion. Raging forward, the burning giant launches his strike, hundreds of tiny darkling trees following his trembling stomps.

Green devours all.

Instantly, the wall of white and green appears. Beyond it stands an array of furious feral felines, massive, lumbering bears, and a boscage yellow trees. Birds sweep the skies, while night elves and tauren ready their staffs. They form a barricade against the rumbling within the darkness. They form a barrier for my protection. They form...a silent wall for what is ahead...

And as if on queue, the shadows shatter, and a marauding pack of vile creatures rushes headlong, its onslaught unleashed. Massive, purple beasts are born of tentacle bearing arms, legs, and mangled faces. Insects of all carapaces and sizes wriggle past the giant faceless monsters while winged serpents vomit balls of lightning at the aerial enemies.

Readying, our troops embrace the vast armada of damnation before them. Readying, they select their targets. Readying, they bear their fangs, claws, and talons.

"The Minions of the Dark Elders." Cenarius calmly calls, "For too long have we fled from their horde. For too long. Let it end, now."

With his words, the two sides slam like tectonic plates. With his words, the foes rip flesh. With his words, the first blood is spilled. It is here we fight, amongst the walls of a small valley. It is where the grandest of skirmishes shall be fought. It is the location of a fight that will never been seen nor heard.

It is here...where we fight the Forgotten Battle.


	30. Chapter 27: One and Only

"_**Well dang. Your calculations of the improbable were clearly flawed."**_

_**Champion of the Naruu as he stands upon the broken body of Pathaleon the Calculator within the Mechanar.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Screams slice the once silent air. Battle cries litter the skies – their echoes an intensifying redundancy. No weapons clash in this realm. No armor clanks nor chimes clinking calamities. There are only claws. There are only bursts of magic. There is simply nature's bounty or death's chilling grasp in avatar form.

And as I pull myself to my feet, the skirmish ahead overwhelming, a shrill, gargled voice invades the apparently fragile sanctum that is my mind,

_Our masters yearn for return…_

Each word seeps frosty pangs across my flesh. The voice draws my focus across the plains, towards a massive, tendril-faced beast.

_The Old Gods have withered in the dream for too long._

Even though a great span separates us, I can feel its glare. I can feel its stare. From here, my orbs land upon what must be the beast's face. Beady, beaming, amber orbs radiate their disgust, their malice. They dare penetrate my existence, rummaging for answers from a clearly visible soul.

And as it hunts, as it searches, the voice revebrates louder than ever…

_Fear now, mortals, the armies of the Dark Elders mass! It is here, amongst the broken field, that the ones that hunger shall finally know satiation._

Its eye's intensify…

_Where those who feast upon souls will feel famished no longer._

Darkness wafts like ochre falls from the optics that churn me so…

_Where the God's bounds shall stretch limitlessly._

All sight, all vision upon it. I must look away, but it has my undivided action…

_The end is here, mortals. Rejoice, you shall be cursed no longer…_

I must…get…away…

And is on queue, the once horrific pulsations that signifies my transition between realms takes effect -- its wrath now a glorious feeling. Edges twitch, reality lightens…

The green taint fades.

"Commander!" Earthquakes erupt, "I chased you from the ruined walls of Andorhal!"

_THUD_, the ground groans and rumbles. I turn to visually partake in the carnage…

"And at the walls of your fouled fortress that is the Undercity, you disgraced my name, Commander!"

_Thud_, _thud_, rolling onto my side, I absorb fully a small leaping leper of an undead; the fury of a towering inferno giant smashing the ground in full pursuit. At the giant's feet scurry dozens of wriggling, blackened saplings.

Arrows mangle and vanquish the miniature roots in droves – Sylvanas a sprinkler-arm of destruction. Darting and chomping amidst the chaos is none other than that tiny, crazy Stuupee-Squeals team…

"Name?" Nathanos confidently throws his words as if pointed arrows, "You had no name, you ashen idiot!"

One then two fists pound the ground, but Nathanos' swift feet send him backwards hopping.

"You always mocked me, Nathanos!" _Thud_, _thud_, _thud_, "Always harassed and scolded! I was never good enough for you!"

Pluck, slam, pluck.

"I knew you but a few moments, you towering jackass!" Nathanos pulls himself into proper posture, his stance fitting upon a marble pedestal, "And for a second time, we shall depart ways in but a fleeting fight!"

Pluck, pluck, pluck, three arrows slam into the beast, ignite, and explode into a trifecta of orange, yellow, and ruby flares. To my dismay, the giant is unphased. Defiantly, he uprights…and stops his assault if for but a second…

"Even as children, even as boys, you were always the best! You were their scholar, their warrior, and then their commander!" Our monster raises a fist into the air, an attack prepped, "And…I…was lost. Lost to Arthas' voyage northbound. Lost…to the shadows…"

Hesitating, the two lock eyes, the moment of their feud continued. The giant speaks one last time.

"Death is for cowards, commander! " the words fouled by his crackling voice, "…your motto, sir!"

With those words, Nathanos' eyes widen, his arms lax, and his guard lowers. With those words, the once pompous man is brought to a state of humility, his humanity revealed. With those words…he flinches and whimpers…

"Impossible…"

_Thud, _Nathanos makes his move, but the fist lands too close. Sent flying, the man bounces once, twice, three times before skidding past the Blue team…

"Catch?" Stuupee watches the figure pass, "Stuupee LOVES catch!"

The tiny blue figure twists back towards the marching giant. Sparks dance across the edges of his moist lips will the air itself ripples from the static drawing from his body. Inhaling deeply, his little body expands as the sparks intensify.

"BLEH!"

Vomiting from his gapping maw is a swirling mesh of surging energies; mesmerizing blue playfully mixing with strands of sparkling white. It is a massive ball of pure electricity, the core a bright white, the teal edges flickering like the sun itself.

Rippling through the air, it ignites all tiny monsters caught in it's path before gliding forcefully towards the unsuspecting giant. Unaware of what barrels towards him, the monster stumbles as a glorious concoction of explosions run across his leg. It does nothing to his barky flesh; however, it slows him long enough for the hand of Nathanos to pluck his fiddle.

And as I turn to take sight of the undead champion, my eyes cannot help but consume the raging combat almost lost to the Commander's conflict.

A wall of bodies thrashes and flays. Undead mutilate the darkness. Armored marauders bring death back to our soldier's lively forms. A dwarf fires a cannon like a true hunter. Two men, a king and his champion, stand against their lost comrade and his swarm of evil while a Death Knight plows through all those wanting a fight.

But all of them are lost to the central duo. Waves ripple as their feet sunder the soil. Sparks light the air and slice the shadows. Tenebrous tendrils thrust, but are rejected by coiling winds, uprooted rocks, and orbs of spiraling lightning. A staff locks against a blackened blade.

The two…

Tok and the Dark General form a pocket of lifelessness around them; their sheer might incapable of external transgressions. They say no words; they speak neither truths nor lies. All that needs to be said is unleashed by their fury, their rage, and their power…

Leaping backwards, the General lands lightly upon his toes, curls his arms inwards, and lets forth a subterranean barrage. His cape rips through the earth, sending a line of protruding spikes for the Troll before him.

Tok slams the end of his staff into the ground, mild tremors stirring life into the lifeless. The wall nears. The quakes multiply. Closer draws the darkness. Bursting from the crust is a wall of earthen material – a shield. Shadows slam harmlessly against the dusty blocker.

Another tap of his staff, more tremors, and a grand display of debris explodes forth – the wall shattered into projectiles. They are fast, but the General's haste is remarkable. Throwing his cape forward, the assault is lost. From its failure, another onslaught is born.

Shot from his huddled form, the General thrusts an elongated spear of concentrated evil. It soars with deadly speed, but the winds will allow no such actions. With a mere oscillation of his staff, blade-like gusts strike at the fueled dart. In seconds it is cut into segments of nothingness.

Once again, the two, the Shaman and the Shadows, stand before each other their strength equal.

Alas, as I gawk, the edges of my reality ripple, the world quakes, and a emerald haze begins to emerge. But before I dare slip from this reality, a heavy wheezing, a desperate plea for air hisses from below.

Rolling to my left, I take sight of the stone edge, and a white form at its side. Once-golden hair is dirtied. Once-gleaming flesh is pasty, its life fading. One hand rests in the dirt while another is slapped lifelessly against the stone. She gasps for air and stares hopelessly towards the heavens – her prays going answered.

Reaching down, I do as one must. I do so uncontrollably, yet willingly. Taking her hand in mine, the frosty chill radiating across my flesh, I draw her attention. And for a brief moment, I bring her the comfort she so desperately needs.

Emerald shades dull her appearance, but I must speak, "As you…did for me…" she quickly fades, but her jaded orbs lock with mine, "I shall hold your hand until it is…over…"

Green is all I know.

Before me stands a wall unlike before. The white burns as if staring into the sun while the teal brings life to this dark place. It stretches double its original height, a pillar of unmatched limits. Energies flick and lick in all directions – their limits unrestrained.

Cries of battle still reign supreme, but they are lost to the magnificent hums of the green circle. Such a display suited for the grand Cenarius. Such a marvelous sight…

"Shaman!" The wall pulsates fiercely is if signifying something, "It is complete!"

My eyes divert to the being tainted by the wall's beauty.

"Bring forth the infant! The Ritual's end all but upon us!" His voice rains upon us like a gentle drizzle, "Align the ill Saylem near our champion and seal this cursed gate! Mend his gushing wound!"

I know from his words that what he desires is not going to be met with an end liking. It takes a moment for the battle-ridden Tok to respond in my mind.

_Mon, dere be some issues._

There is a momentary pause.

"Tok, what is the dilemma? Has something become our hero?"

_No, mon._

A second pause – the anxiety rising.

"What then, mighty Shaman? What impedes the final resolution?"

A third pause – the truth upon us.

_Saylem, mon..._

The final pause -- Cenarius' eyes sweeping the ground before him nervously.

"Troll, please do not reveal what I do dread most…"

"Go ahead, Tok," My heart sinks as the deeply dark, chilling voice of the General fills the void around me, "Tell the Protector your failures!"

Cenarius peruses the terrain around him, hunting for the source of the voice. It takes but a second for his disheartening revelation to strike him. His eyes close before he sighs a sorrow-filled sigh.

"General, you do not know the consequences of your misguided actions!"

"Cenarius, your pleadings would have touched me deeply once upon a time."

As I stare at Cenarius, the boundaries of my sight flicker, and images of the other realm flutter in. I see a raging battle, our comrades, and the infamous General. My two worlds…have become one…

"Enluzen is now the only voice that reaches my senses now. Only he…"

Rushing from the pack, a man clad in silver darts from behind a pair of Marauders. In one hand is a small buckler. In the other, a blade with the word "Elune" etched upon its face -- a night elf's blade in the hands of a human.

Kowl leaps at the General, his wrath upon him, "Then let me drive some new reason into your person, my General!"

Blade leading, Kowl thrusts, but the swift hand catches the blade; however, his speed is lacking…and the tip of metal vanishes amidst the thick armor. Fiercely, the cape's fury is unleashed. One spike strikes, but the small buckler impedes. Now our hero stands trapped, one hand attached to his blade the other interlocked with darkness.

"Foolish mortal!" Kowl is lifted effortlessly, "You have strayed far into the darkness!"

The man is held in the air, the coiling cape wrapped around his limbs.

"Here, let me return you to your corner of inevitable defeat!"

With a mere flick, the darkness whips the man outward. He tumbles upon the air. Arms clutch useless weapons. Legs kick futilely. Heavy armor drags him into descent. Once, twice, thrice, he bounces before sloughing into a slumped form only yards away.

"Briston!" Greymane howls as he dashes towards the lifeless figure. "Briston! Get up, you daft…stubborn…idiot!"

Skidding to a stop, he falls to his knees and scoops up the man. "You didn't die on that ship, like hell you are going to fall! Not with your King here!"

Kowl's head rocks backwards, all forms of life pellucid.

"You swam the seas, and now, an insect of a man throws you…and that is it?" Despair, sorrow, grief coats his words, "Get up, or I will beat you into consciousness!"

Tears build at the corners of his eyes – the King's first signs of humility.

"Greymane, we need you here!" Darion barks as he holds three armored warriors at bay. "Leave the man, he will be fine!"

"Yes, King." The Dark General cackles, "Return to your position as modest soldier. Return to your ranks as another fool. Always a brawler, there is no compassion owed by one such as Greymane the Great!"

No words slip. Depression fuels his body. He kneels, tears building, soul broken. For Greymane, he is lost in his own mind.

"Die, Nathanos! DIE!"

_Thud_, _thud_, the earth quakes and Nathanos shoots across the left side of my vision. He lands closer to the General's formation now; his antagonist far from sight, but not out of mind.

"Elusive little gnat!" _THUD_. He is upon me, "You fail to comprehend that nature itself is all but corrupt! You fail to see that the trees, grass, and planet itself fight against you!"

_THUD_. He appears in my vision. Leaning forward, he stares down at me, the pair of beady eyes burning my soul. Within each one, I can sense the tides of darkness and the weaknesses of those meant to stop him. Within each churning orb, hopelessness caresses all faucets of reality…

"If I cannot have you then I shall take your precious little child." The black sole of a mangled foot shadows out all. "I shall take what completes you…"

Lifted slightly, one cannot help but embrace the darkness it creates. One cannot help but be enveloped by the twisting shadows that grow from its girth. One cannot help but feel it the sinister design. And one cannot help but know…it is not the end…

"Young one!" The voice of an aged angel burn across the skies, "I will not fail you during your time of need!"

Sounds of siege engines colliding echo across the heavens. The massive foot disappears from sight. Stumbling to his side, the once towering giant is overwhelmed by the equivocal tree from Orgrimmar.

"The Nature still holds it own, you foul beast!" He barrels onwards, his own army of glowing, green saplings sprouting to battle their counterparts, "Behold the element's will!"

Arching backwards, his fist gathers fuel before being sent as a projectile of reason. Pockets of dried, brown leaves waft from the rather sickly Tree. The giant shakes and falls rearwards as the wooden wrecking ball plows into his torso.

Daring to recoil, the Tree retaliates swiftly. He swings an arm into the air, lets it hang, then promptly allows the sledge-hammer to fall – its elbow cracking against the ashen flesh. Upon his scorched knees, the undead unleash precise volleys of discouragement – the giant beaten into his corner.

"Enough of this!" The General hollers as his trap begins to falter, "Minions of the Dark Elders! Soldiers of the Shadows! Hear me now! Turn to the child upon the stone pedestal and embrace my words!"

"Mon, wat ya planning ta do now?" Tok glares with puzzlement upon his face…

"They were brought here to end the child's suffering! To block the gate that connected two worlds! But now, as we speak, the pup writhes in agony! And now…as we speak…"

His blade lifts, pointing at me.

"They have thrown the door wide open…"

"General, cease your madness! We do not know what will happen if you…" Cenarius dares to call to the madman.

"Silence!" His words blare for all to hear, "The ritual to save him shall be his undoing! For now…his soul is a direct link for all those willing…"

I feel the world's stare land upon my shoulders. I feel my heart sink and my very existence cringe as he emits the next words…

"The first to embrace his light shall be absorbed. Two souls shall become…one…"

"No, mon! If anyone done merge wit da boy, he can rip two worlds inta two! Ya can blow da planet up, mon!"

Starring onward, his gaze is not impeded by the Troll's pleadings, "Then so be it…troll." Yelling now, he calls to all those able, "Soldiers, I promise you limitless power if you reach the pup!"

The entirety of my existence becomes silent. An army of eyes peer upon me. Figures stop all movement, all actions to gaze upon their target. Warriors halt all feuding to gawk at the source. All turn to get a glimpse…of their prize…

"Go now! Bring Hope the darkness!"

Edges of my reality blur. Chest tightens. Quickly, the two worlds I embrace fade, leaving behind the emerald horrors alone. But, as it fades, the roars of a hundred soldiers echo across the skies, and the stampeding hooves of the greedy signal the charge…to reach my pedestal…

The Emerald hue devours all.

Unexpectedly, Cenarius calls, "Druids, let none through! None shall reach the child! None _can _reach the boy!"

Taking a deep breath, I maneuver to absorb the field. Bears, cats, trees, creatures of all sorts interlock with monsters unnoticing of their strikes. Hundreds of burning eyes gaze beyond those they fight…and land squarely upon me.

If I heard him right, then at this very moment…my very soul is revealed for the world. If I heard him right, then if one of those monsters reaches me…then it will fill the space that has tormented me so…

I only wish I hadn't heard him right…

It is then that I catch sight of the scene overhead. Birds fight winged monstrosities of all shapes and sizes. Eagles battle serpents of all colors and girths. And as the raging chaos ensues, my eyes land upon a single, tiny creature that darts past the entire event.

Abruptly , it turns direction and dive-bombs straight towards me...

Larger and larger it becomes. With each passing second, it's once indescribably eyes burn brighter. Fangs become near blades of destruction. Saliva glistens. I make to call, but its eyes know no limits and waits for nothing…

And in seconds, it is upon my person.

Closing my eyes, I wait for the strike. Steadying my soul, I ready for the inevitable fusion. It's hisses are but feet away. It's dripping saliva is but inches. Its clanking jaws are knives against my flesh. Warm breath washes upon me.

Wait…

Opening my eyes, ice floods my veins. Chills grip my muscles and anxiety dulls my senses. For so close that I can feel its breathing is the serpent from above. It thrashes wildly, its fangs snapping inches from my nose. Salvia slaps the stone slab. And its eyes yearn for my taste.

"Sickening creature!" Whipped from my presence, Cenarius pulls the thrashing snake to his eye-level before snorting, "The Titan's should have annihilated you filthy vermin."

With his free, root-hand he entangles the serpent and lets forth a volley of disgusting cracking sounds. Crushing the beast, he lets it go limp before throwing it into the darkness beyond the druids and the warrior creatures.

"Forgive me, child. That got far too close for even my liking."

I make to speak, but my chest tightens, the edges blur, and green diminishes. It is getting worse…

Green fades to gray.

Rumbling stomps rain from nearby – the two behemoths interlocked. Twisting, I feel weaker than ever. Rolling onto my side, the sensation of a chilled hand exists, and briefly and glance down to the unbelievably anguished Jaina.

Alas, I am given but a second to absorb her translucent beauty as a barrage of quakes rattle my being.

"Treant, you are nothing to my might!" An ashen limb smashes against a failing tree, "Your meek attempts at victory shrouded by darkness!"

Another strike delivered. The tree form stumbles backwards. He uprights briefly as the fiery giant lets his burning orbs lock. The two gaze upon each other, one beaten. The two stare each other down, one with the upper hand. And one attacks, his molten form too swift, too eager…too powerful…

Leaves shoot from the torso. Crunching sounds radiate from the Treant's torso. Arms go limp. Horrible snaps ripple from a body worn easily. Aged howls radiate, but are muffled by another blow to the face.

Our towering hero all but maimed, yet he fights onward!

Slam, a third pummel upon his leg. Suddenly, the tree jabs a jagged set of fingers into the giant's eyes.

"Foolish ent, your time has come to an end!" Furiously, the giant grabs the limb upon his mangled mind, and with ease…snaps it…

The trees cries of pain silence the field. Tears form upon my eyes. Time itself weeps at the beings agony. Earthen mounds groan and moan. The entirety of the planet lets forth its sorrows from the aged lips of a wise creature…

"You will never defeat us…" Our hero stands rebelliously still. "The Earthmother will never bow to your kind. Not in this life…or the next…"

Fiendish arm rolls backwards, its strike prepped. Maniacal thoughts process, the action all but done. Dastardly mouth sunders, the words cocky and taunting.

"Is that so, Ent?" Ashen fingers mold to a single, jagged point. "What a shame that those words hold no truth in this world…"

Death awaits upon ashen fingertips.

"And nothing will be different…"

Stop it! No! My thoughts all but mine…

"In the one I send you too…"

No!

Wood splinters. Chunks of torn bark ripple from a penetrated body. Thick, sappy fluids gush from the pierced point. A tree rocks in place, life fading from all limbs. A spear protrudes from a defeated hero – the weapon bearing all the weight.

Letting the treant hang upon fouled blade, the giant relishes in his victory. Drawing upon his suffering the monster feasts fully. And jerking rearwards, he lets deaths hand guide the giant to his home – to the foliage waiting for him.

_Thud_.

He bounces upon the soil. Arms follow suit at gravity's command. He is lost. I want to go to his side, but my body is trapped. I want to give him the light, the strength necessary, but I barely have enough for myself. I want to comfort him as I do the icy Jaina.

But all I can find relief in are his glistening, sweeping eyes – lost orbs searching for anything to sooth their existence. He lives on, but the giant will not allow such an insult to spoil his spirit…

"In the end, Tree, this planet shall be corrupt to the core." Looming over the weakened being, he positions his pompous person in the proper location.

"Let hate fill your heart." Fist at the ready. "Let rage consume you." The finale pending. "Let vengeance reign…"

As he makes to finish his motion, the glorious call of a woman fit rains forth, "Like hellfire am I going to stand here idle!"

Pluck. In a blur of a moment, a blue flash streaks the sky, chills the air, and explodes into a pocket of frost upon the monster's face. He makes to holler, but the ice encompasses his brow.

"Your shadows aren't the only thing capable of an icy touch, giant! This queen knows chill to her very heart!"

She shifts in view and takes spot between the giant and myself. If she did so premeditatedly is a question beyond my own reasoning. What isn't, however, is her barrage of destruction she lets fall upon the stumbling giant.

Let him have it, my Lady!

Sadly, as I watch her and the countering Nathanos subdue one side, the cries of desperation dance from the other, "Greymane! I cannot restrain them myself! Their numbers are far too vast!"

Twisting, I embrace the full meaning behind his rather modest words. Our Death Knight swings his deadly blade upon the wall of distracted marauders -- their gaze focused upon me. He carves and cleaves a cluster of the reckless raiders, but they continue to swarm. To his side hold tenacious, undead warriors, but their feeble forms are simply no match to the onslaught of the shadows.

"Greymane, cease your weeping!" The knight calls, but the king is lost in his mind. "Greymane!"

Darion chops one, two, three foe, but their numbers are overwhelming. Another is halted. He arches his blade -- a body to add to the pile. Three pull to his side. He cleaves wildly, but his efforts are naught.

"King!"

And as the final word slips from his lips, a soldier darts past the Knight. The marauder rushes headlong, his blade at his side. It dashes past all able bodies; myself and the King the only figures left in his path. Darion twists, aims his runed blade, but he cannot get a proper aim. Nothing stands between me...and the shadows...

"Seven years ago," suddenly, the king begins to speak -- mumbling softly to Kowl's unconscious person, "We ventured to the broken deserts. We bested parched beasts. We overcame monstrous giants..."

Speeding, the warrior nears as the lost king wanders.

"And we embraced the darkness. We took the curse as brothers." His eyes sweep the man, "Yet in one moment...my greatest ally is my worst enemy. And the man I consider my son is consumed by the darkness."

Tears gather as the soldiers draws upon him.

"Greymane the Great. Ha! I am only as strong as the ones I surround myself with. I am only as marvelous as my champions!" Rage seeps from his own dreary words, "Now, I have nothing. The king...is nothing. He is...alone..."

His words despair me. His gritting teeth disturb me. The king has let his mind wander too far into the corner of black. Our hero has traveled too far into the darknesss. He is lost in his head, and I know plenty of that...

Reaching my free hand out -- the other growing colder by the moment-, I whisper to him, "Greymane. How can you say that?"

Surprised eyes lock with me, his maw agape, "Look around you, King. As I have been told for so long now, you are never alone."

_You are never alone!_

About time you show up...

Drops of despair gather upon the floodgates of stubbornness. Teeth are gnashed together, our champion's heart filling with fury. Limbs vibrate, his once distraught spirit rising. There is the angry expression of The Great Greymane.

Oddly, his once pale-blue eyes gain a dull-yellow hue, "Boy, you rest upon a pedestal, near a fate worse than death, yet you...you are not defeated."

Appearing in sight, a helm over the king's kneeling outline, is the soldier. Only seconds now...

"How can this King be lost in such foolishness?" Fiery words match his burning, yellow eyes, "To your feet, Greymane! Embrace yourself as a man!"

Pulling to one knee, he begins to shake -- vibrating almost. His lips pucker, and sweat beads upon his brow.

"No longer will you hide behind the weak. No longer will you hid behind lies!"

The marauder is but feet away from the King. As he nears, the King shakes violently, his fists gnarled and oscillating. To my dismay, the flesh darkens and a layer of thick, dark-gray hair bursts from the once normal skin. Horrifically, his face contorts and the skin begins to quake. He draws his hairy hands to his face as the same heavy fur coats the once tan-hide.

"No longer am I Greymane the Great!"

Jerking to his feet, he stands tall, his true appearance showing for all. A muzzle protrudes from his face -- a salt and pepper dog snout. Heavy black fur runs as sideburns and lands upon his long, gray trench-coat. Bright-yellow eyes burn amidst the thick coat of black, white, and gray. The winds drag the coat and fur alike, a grand display.

Even grander, the King pivots, throws his arm down, and makes to claw with his new, massive blades, "I am Greymane..."

Unleashing his fury, he strikes, his claws slicing the armor as if soft dough, "The Cursed!"

And, drawing upon the fate that time has given him, he lunges forward, letting the dumbstruck foe to collapse lifelessly. Body drawn downward, he sprints across the field, covering the distance in a mere fraction of the soldier's time. His feet move as if gliding. His body secretes an aura of power.

Leaping into the fray, he intercepts a fiend breaking the line. Throwing his arm forward, he crushes the initial foe as if a fragile child. Swiftly, he turns, rams his claws into another. There, he pulls two limp bodies clad in full armor from the ground -- one in each hand. Arching backwards, he tilts his head to match his spine. And, standing upon his toes, his muzzle pointed towards the heavens, he howls. Howls a grand howl unlike any other. Howls for his people, for those lost. He howls...

...As only a King can.

And as his cries radiate upon the skies, for all to hear, he pulls one body back, hurls it forward and repeats. Almost beating the flying bodies, he collides with the wall of shadow soldiers. Thrashing feverishly, he maims man after man. Slicing wildly, he mangles menace after menace. In seconds, he plows through all those able and stands waiting. Alas, he doesn't have to wait long...

Flying at him is a teal figure wrapped in fine cloth. Catching the speeding troll-bullet, Greymane halts his rearward advance and places him upon feet. Barely able to hold himself, he seems weary and worn.

"Troll, where are you in a hurry too?" Greymane...makes a joke?

Grabbing his head, the Troll weakly replies, "Mon, da General be too strong." His head tilts upwards, and he flinches, "Look out, mon!"

Sadly, no one is able to move. No one is able to flee. No is able...as a horrific explosion of black bursts amidst the crowd of warriors. In a flash, the entirety of the battle is devoured by darkness. A wall of black sweeps across all those visible and washes over my pedestal. Closing my eyes, I let the frosty sensation fill me...

An agonizing pang snaps within. Opening my eyes, I embrace a hazy, dark-green world. The skies above are full -- the canopy still and the valley walls still visible. I can feel Jaina's grasp, but as I go to look, she is but a faded form of her prior self. Around me are dozens of translucent figures. They appear as if in another plain. Cenarius towers over me, a volley of tainted green orbs rippling from his hands. The white and teal wall stretches as tall as ever.

It is as if two worlds have become. It is as if I rest within both, but take refuge out of either of their grasps. The air is heavy. The world is weightless. A feeling resembling death, yet full of life. I cannot move, but I can sense it all. This is it. This is the moment Tok spoke of...

Suddenly, the once beautiful wall courses, pulses and the white begins to darken. In seconds, the once calming barrier begins pitch-black at the base and the rest quickly follows. Something is wrong. And as I gawk, the voice I fear most ripples across the plain of my existence.

"Pup, it is just you...and me."

Swirling shadows bounce across the edges of the right-side of my vision. A dark mound rises, the shapeless blob the introduction to the iniquitous. As it lifts, draws into sight, and begins to take form, Cenarius takes sight of his own creation -- of the towering wall. He stares at it, and gawks at my pedestal as if he can see something.

Desperate cries radiate from his alarmed lips, "Tok, locate a parting soul...NOW!"

He sweeps the terrain as a Troll rushes past his legs -- the two in separate realities. Tok darts to the stone and stares down as if gazing through me. He cannot see me. Neither of them can...

"Mon, dere is nuttin..."

"No time to terry, Troll! Procure a being willing and able!"

A deep cackle rolls from the now-formed demon. His piercing eyes stare past the dark mask upon his face. From here, I can see his maniacal smirk slathered fully...

"How humorous is fate's fancies, eh, pup?" He lifts a lone claw. I make to move, but it no use. "You should have let me take you prisoner when you had the offer, pup."

Cold metal draws towards my face. I can almost feel the blistering frosty sheets...

"I shall devour your soul."

Inches away.

"And rise...as a being matching my master's very might."

They flicker as if hungering for my touch...

"Farewell, pup."

Time slows. A desperate, four-legged giant stares hopelessly at the now pitch-black barrier. A troll stands sorrowed, all hope lost from his person. He searches the field, but he cannot locate what he so years for. And a mangled fist glints as if an unseen light glides across. The scene of the end...

"Troll." A pained, cracked, aged voice catches my mind. "Take...mine..."

Gawking at something near my head, he emits troubled words, "Mon, ya powahs...dey may be too much fa da boy..."

"Time is scarce, troll," interjecting, the voice rings as the metal draws to my flesh, "It was predicted. And..and...the wind's never...lie...troll."

A moment of hesitation from a baffled, teal figure. A moment of pompous, arrogant actions from the dark man's relished triumph. Both let the seconds pass -- time's significance lost.

But one being, one creature, lets his wise voice reign, "It...is...my...destiny."

And as the dark, armor-clad digits draw towards my skin, a troll lifts his staff high over his head. As the tenebrous tendrils of malicious fingers reach for the finale, the end of a staff is directed above my person. And as the cold chill embraces my warm flesh, a heavy clank echoes from the wooden butt.

A display of sickening colors swirl above me. Wind rushes through my body. All images blur. There is no reality, but a mixed spiral of lights and flashes. All existence grows weightless. I am floating upon an unseen cloud -- its gentle weight sufficient for my cause. I expect a surge of overwhelming darkness, a tidal wave of crushing shadows, but my assumptions are drowned by a gleaming, glorious glow.

Cascading across my corroded vision is a mending mixture of blue, black and dark-green. Each color mingles playfully with the next; the total combination simply breath taking. And, for a brief moment of splendid wonder, all becomes still, rippling ever-so-slightly -- a shifting oil painting for my eyes alone.

"You have fought hard." That voice is so familiar, "You ninny."

Yeah, I thought that it was...

"You would." The world focuses. An array of random clicks flutter, "Digression, your specialty, Hope. You make it a contagious --click click-- disease."

A silhouette of a bony, spiny creature appears. It is most definitely him.

"You stood against the world. You held strong when strength was scare. --click click click-- You resisted the shadows, and you did it when all hope seemed lost."

Appearing in my vision is a thick-shelled creature of my own internal workings. A spiky, heavy carapace rests upon two lanky arms and a set of bony legs. Protruding from his face is a carved, battle-scared horn -- the princely marking. Clicking near his mouth are a set of furious pincers. It is a nerubian warrior. It is the assassin within. It is...my voice...

"You did so with the world upon your shoulders! And...you did so..."

And as he comes to speak the words he has not spoken in so long, a deep, raspy, elderly voice ripples from the tranquil walls.

"Never alone." Emerging from the obscurities is a towering creature, twigs jutting from wooden limbs. "The winds came to me. They spoke of a being as lost as I. Its calming fingers tickled my weary beard and lured me to a foul abode. It was there I met the tiny creature, the tiny spark of life. It was there I met Hope..."

A long flowing beard is ridden with a green, jade, and crimson hues -- each color a different leave. And amidst the quaking mesh of foliage of is a hidden maw. Radiating from its bark-lips are gentle, aged words.

"It was there I met my destiny, young one!" The once battered giant stands tall, his color full and well, "Embrace our union, young one! Let the energies of druidic design dance through your veins!"

Lifting a massive, leaf-stricken hand my way, he points a long, root-like digit towards my person, "Young one, you are blessed with abilities beyond your kind! Young one, feel nature's fury within!"

As he speaks, a surge of forgotten strength courses through my veins. It has been so long since I remember such health. Or...it just felt like an eternity passing.

"Young one, release my rage as your own!"

Suddenly, a shock-wave of raw, bright-green energies roll from my body. Marvelous! Simply marvelous!

"Young one, leave this place!"

Earth rumbles and quakes. Tendrils of thrashing energy snaps at the ground, the sky, and flicks the air. Another explosion domes around my body. Such power!

"Young one, go! Avenge me!"

Edges of my reality ripple. Chest tightens. Green begins to fade...

"Young one," he pauses as he fades to grey, "smack him with that shovel for this old fool."

A glorious explosion of stunning lights emits. Cascading colors of glorious greens glow, fade, and mold into reality's dull grey. My eyes drift towards the heavens, the blue ceiling masked by few scarce trees. Descending, the menacing mountain cliffs give form to the valley below. Lowering to the shrouded floor, my wandering eyes embrace the scene as only I can.

On his back, a troll gawks at the scene -- of a lone man standing upon a stone slab. Dumbstruck, a pair of undead dam the floodgates of their fury. Holding back the stampeding storm, a Death Knight, Worgen, and dwarf twist, their eyes bemused and bewildered. Coughing, the once jaded Jaina secretes lively chimes. Around me are those I know too well. Around me stand firm the fighters.

_CHIRP_

And the lovers...

Surrounding me are the heroes, the friends, and the forgotten of our time. And before me...is the villain of the shadows...

Jade jolts flicker from his humble helm. Green glows gleam from his dark armor. Overwhelming emerald hues cup his cape into silent submission. And my bright, white light illuminates that which is hidden...

Lifting my spade, I left forth the powers provided, and speak as confidently as I had done one...long...year...ago. And the words that rain forth are deserving of the entire span lost.

"My name is Hope Blackwood!"

A once sundered soul spews strength thought vanquished. Dormant metal of an unused shovel glistens as it had done before.

"I am a hero! I am a champion! I am a friend!"

Flares of outstanding viridian spiral around the stagnate wooden handle.

"I am..." my words rain upon the baffled being like a man to an ant, "...the gravedigger!"

A spade sparkles, glows, and absorbs nature's bounty beautifully. And its hue, my very shine, reveals that which is masked.

"And it shall be my pleasure..."

Malicious metal is lent life. Blackened plate bears pastel colors. An armor that used to shine naturally is given its sheen by a source proud and true -- all fallacies stricken. His mask lit up. His mouth, his beard, his pale flesh, all of it exposed. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They fuel my spirit while they holler..."

"...to bury you!"

His weakness.

Forming upon the end is a sphere, its sides coiling into itself -- as if constantly forming on the crust and promptly drawing inward as if imploding. A ball of raw, druidic energy. A projectile of the planet's perfect power. A weapon of my strength, my future, and...my wrath. Waves of blinding lights flash, and the orb begins to spin, its target locked.

Oh, how I have forgotten this.

The blade lets forth a gentle hum, radiates a glorious glow, and shoots...revenge for vengeance's craft...

**FLASH**


	31. Chapter 28: Plots Revealed

_**"I know one thing from my short time of existence: the more I think I know, the less I really do ."**_

_**Rhonin**_

_**

* * *

**_

"What have you done?" We dash across a rubble road as an enraged Night Elf hollers at Tok. "Troll, what have you DONE?"

Smells of charred cinder, scorched shingles, and burnt wood invade the nostrils. Each scent overpowering the other as we shift through the war-torn town.

"Mon, ya got ta undahstand wat da circumstances be…"

"Understand?" I follow Nathanos of who follows Tok of who follows the unknown figure we met at the outskirts of this unsightly village, "We are beyond simplistic understanding, Tok. What we face now threatens the very boundaries of my people!"

"Ya people, mon? Ya speak as if ya be da only ones able ta communicate wit nature."

Swiftly, we shoot past an arched entryway – its main frame obliterated. Stones, bricks, shattered wood, and the sorts crunch beneath our feet. I cannot help but stumble upon the uneven terrain; of course, a ruined building isn't exactly the prime location for such concerns.

"Are you referring to those green cows? Bah! Their knowledge is but a puddle for their feeble minds to splash within. The magnitude of our intellectual cavities matches the depths of the Great Sea -- an ocean to swim."

More ruins, more unbalanced movement, yet no concern by our leaders. At the moment, I catch sight of a rather massive, shiny object. Drawn to it like a moth to flame, I devour its existence until I come upon the answer I am searching for. Three sets of huge, rubbery wheels. Heavy blocks of iron draped upon its side. Two cannons perched upon the top, and a viewport in front. If I didn't know any better, that is a siege engine…

Interrupting my thoughts comes the same enjoyable Elf.

"Cenarius barely tolerated their roaming within the dream. Now just imagine the insolence he must devour embrace with our new…addition's…fate."

"Mon, Cenarius done follow da boy himself!" He ducks below a slanted, shattered rooftop, "He put him faith into da child…"

"Faith?" He throws a weak glance back to Tok for the first time. "Do not confuse faith with concern, Tok. He guarded the boy to prevent the end of all things. Not to give rise to…this…"

It is at this point that the two continue their irritated ramblings. Honestly, I do not really care what they are talking about, despite my involvement. So, I will take it upon myself to just…wander…

At last, we wipe through a final frame before rushing into an open, cratered courtyard. To our sides rest a set of buildings; one of which has makeshift repairs to cover the obvious damages it received. The other, the one our delightful host guides us towards, is rather intact.

Its massive doorway is gained entry by an elongated ramp. Sheets of metal drape the roof and scorch marks reveal prior attempts at destruction. These same metallic shingles slant forwards and aim for the front entrance, which can only be described as an artificial horn concocted of greenish wood. The horn protrudes further than any other portion of the structure -- a protective covering for those entering.

From this building's design, numerous guards, and armor one could guess it is of rather significant qualities…

_You let nothing get past you. Young one, you are wise beyond your age! You are serious, aren't you…tree? Young one, silence this insect; I would hate to have to scrape his remains from my foot! You don't have it in you, Barky! Young bug, I may just be senile, and might stomp you flat without even knowing! You couldn't aim that gnarled hoof of yours…_

Ok, really? You two are put together for what, three hours? And there is already an argument? Come on, it isn't like I missed this part of having two voices…

_You know you did. Young one, he is going to get smushed! You lack the guts, old man!_

Stop!

"Mon," concentration lost, "ya gotta accept it. Wat be done be done. Nuttin we can do now."

Silence follows as we scurry into the center of the open area. It is here that the footsteps of the others draw my attention. Spinning, I catch sight of Brann walking along side Stuupee and Squeals. Next to them are King Greymane and an unconscious Kowl in his arms. Finally, Darion and Sylvanas brace the weak Jaina – her body purged of the evil.

_You did that, you know. Young one, the power of poison abolishment flows in your veins now! You are just trying to outdo me, Tree. Young gnat, you are just too daft to comprehend my wisdom. You are just full of yourself, Ent._

Enough, guys.

_Young bug, your exoskeleton is just vacant. You take that back!_

Really, that is good…

_Young insect, you try and make me! You will feel my spiny wrath!_

Uncontrollably, I feel my lips part and, "Shut up!"

Instantly, I feel the burning gaze of a multitude of eyes. Turning forward, I allow for the vast majority of individuals to fade from sight, leaving only Nathanos, Tok, and the Night Elf. At first, Tok and Marris gawk at me, but, with a slow, unnerving twisting of his body, the teal figure locks his eyes upon me.

My spine crawls as the utter disgust radiates from his glowing orbs. Gnarled lips curl to appear as if he has sucked upon something bitter. Brows mold to increase his intensify. His hatred for me is absolute and unending.

And as he his death stare continues, I take in his demeanor. Strong shoulders bear a set of thick, leathery, brown pads. Spikes descend from his bulky sheet and dangle towards dull, gleaming sparkles. The heavy fabric runs towards his aquamarine flesh and guide to a set of markings that crawl up his neck.

They hug the edges of his muscles and end at his jaw. There is a brief cut in their design before they form dark-green circles around a pair of bright-green eyes. Thick, near-black strands run a bit unorganized across his face, but, for the most part, they stay set and form an almost perfect display of cleanliness and order as they flow down his back.

Yet, despite his rather powerful display, it is his eyes that draw me most. So many emotions flow from them. They scream all for me, and hunger only for my demise. And, as what feels like a short eternity of awkward, telepathic battery, his lips quiver angrily…

"Accept, Tok? Clearly, the boy is incapable of bearing the burden." He grunts, "I have had enough of him already."

Turning from me, the man throws an arm towards the tattered abode and firmly commands, "Take the wounded into the town center." He lowers one limb to catapult the other at the plated structure, "Once you few have delivered them join us within the Inn."

The Elf takes a few steps in the direction of his commands, his long, patterned robes almost streaking the dirt below. Alas, as he nears the building, he throws me a second uncomfortable gaze. His lips part, but all that escapes is a barrage of disgruntled groans.

Well, I can tell I like him already. Yeah, I like him a lot…

_You are just full of sarcasm, aren't you? Young one, you must believe he doesn't full hate you; he is just...lost._

Of course….

"Worm!" My eyes dart to the undead feet away, "Your pet died!"

Instantly, a rush of chills collides within my veins. I throw my sight upon Stuupee to only have myself relieved to see him and Squeals still together…alive.

"Not her, you idiot." A brown object jabbed into my vision. "This pet, Worm! It is dead."

Filling my sight is a horrible, misshapen abomination. A thick, black shell covers a set of jagged, spiny twigs. Roots run from its base to form what appear to be its feet. Duo tree branches dangle at its side and climb to a round, disgusting bug head. Wow, I cannot believe he actually carried that here…

"Your…tree…bug…stopped breathing. I tried shaking it back to life, but then its wings fell off." His eyes sweep the thing, "Poorly crafted, if I do say so myself."

"Marris." I pause briefly to allow me a moment to think, "Why do you still have that?"

He shrugs, "Well, it is hideous and reminds me…of…well, me. While it truly makes me proud of you, it still allows me to keep you in your place beneath my greatness."

Suddenly, he takes a final glance at the warped creation before dropping it into a crater. Turning from me, he dismisses my being with a wave of his hand.

"I forget where I was going with that." Now he motions for me to follow, "Come, you bored me into caring about what this Elf wants from us."

Ok…?

At that, Marris waddles his rather dramatic walk. Bobbing shoulders bounce in an up and down, oscillating fashion. And in the wake of his pompous silhouette are the shapes and forms of many in the background. Greymane is the first individual I notice dashing towards our destination, with Darion close behind. But it is in the rich, glorious, ruby eyes where my true devotion lies…

My Queen…

"What are you gawking at, Goldfish?" Ravenous rage wafts from her eyes in the form of gaseous red, "Are you simply wandering, or do I need to gouge insolent eyes?"

I hesitate, choosing my words wisely, "Gouging my eyes would do nothing. Your beauty would still burn within my memories, a perfect picture to soothe me in the darkness."

_You are good! Young one, your efforts at courtship are outstanding! You are back at long last!_

She squints, her narrow brow directing her rays, "Then I will have to snuff all life from you, huh?"

I make to speak, but I am beaten as I make my way up the ramp by Darion, "Are you two serious? Care to flirt at some other time? When we aren't drowning in such an overwhelming conundrum?"

"Darion, shush!" Nathanos blurts as we enter the large, open space of what appears to be the main lobby, "We might actually be seeing the makings of Worm's demise."

Darion sighs and simply shakes his head.

Words float to the tongue of The Lady, but a sudden snort is followed by the footsteps of a distressed Elf. He makes from the upper story, returning with an addition at his side. Long, purple hair glides against the new lady's fine shoulders. It locks upon strong, yet delicate arms. A powerful aura radiates from her person – matching that of man at her side.

Her armor clings to her form, the fine leather doing her no justice. Indigo hues float from her pale flesh. Heavy markings around her eyes form vertical diamonds – glinting as if actual gems. Of course, the sparkles come not from her natural tattoos, but from her glamorous orbs.

"Malfurion, my love, you seem perturbed." The Night Elf woman speaks infatuatedly at the male counterpart, "What rattles you so?"

As if his soul is purged of all disturbances, the Night Elf man known as Malfurion gazes at the woman as if it is the first time he has laid eyes on her, "My darling, such a stirring of events: dark tidings from the dream, rallied armies upon our soil, marching toward Astranaar's end, and now…"

His once entranced face twists back to its original infuriated state, and he gazes back towards me, "This fool has been hastily blessed druidic powers."

"Such strong words, my love." She coerces his face to hers, "Your soul is brimming with anxiety. Calm yourself, Malfurion."

He sighs heavily, "Tyrande, what do I do? How can I dare concoct the means of which to fit the Aspects when they arrive? How do I explain to the Dragon's the situation?"

Stroking gentle hands slide against his face, she draws him back to his subdued state of existence. His eyes calm and his body relaxes. That is…remarkable…

Unexpectedly, I feel frosty fingers smack the bottom of my jaw, "Like what you see, Goldfish?"

Fiercely, I hear a loud clanking of teeth – echoed within my skull. A dull pain ripples from my maw, and I turn to embrace the burning set of righteous rubies. A furious frown and raging stare draws me to shaking. Not good, Hope. Not good…wait…is she…jealous?

_You are way off. Young one, don't get ahead of yourself now._

Alas, before I can dare wander, a booming, sensational call sends quakes through the very halls of which we stand, "What needs explaining, Stormrage?"

I am instantly drawn into spinning. Throwing my sight towards the booming bellow, I quickly find a unbelievably tall, yet still alluring woman marching forcefully down what appears to be a missed side entrance.

Long, silky legs slide against fine fabric wraps the hug the fine curves. It draws up to her waist and ends at an exposed, rather dark-brown – almost purplish – fleshy midriff. Following my vertical ascension, I come to a plated shirt that covers her chest and runs to thick chunks of metal upon her shoulders.

Coming to her head, I take sight of a firm, elegant chin that makes transition to an elegant face of a a near-perfect elf. Burning orange eyes spew flames as if mimicking Sylvanas'. These same said fires run to dark-orange hair the flows from her scalp like the very flames that burn from her eyes. It is there that I catch side of the second anomaly besides her height; a set of curled, gigantic horns that rise from her forehead.

She seems familiar…

Unfortunately, my curious mind is drawn from her person and lands upon a shorter male figure that stands slightly behind her. He dons rolling, red robes that hide much of his form. All that is visible is fiery red hair, an Elfish face – human like despite the elongated ears – and the same raging, flaming eyes. Finally, at her other side, is a short, normal sized individual. Purplish armor glistens weakly and glows an orange hue at the tops of his rather spiny shoulder pads. This same orange glow matches the thick red hair that runs from a heavy beard to a scurry head. The last feature that strikes me about the figure is a the large, circular amulet upon his chest -- a magenta border illuminated by two horizontal cusps. An eye...

That is Rhonin.

_You remembered someone! Young one, that is the leader of the Kiron Tor._

Yeah, i recall that as well. Sadly, as I go for some well deserved self-gratification, the Night Elf booms.

"Alexstrasza, my lady, what I was trying to express was…" he sweeps the area near the Giant Woman before cocking an eyebrow, "Is there only the Red Flight?"

She shakes her and simultaneously nods at something to the far left of my vision. As if it appeared from nowhere, a towering figure draped in robes of dark-blue, mystique qualities makes its entry. Long sleeves hide arms as does the cloth does to its legs. An ominous hood shrouds all facial features, and brings all only darkness to its true self.

As I gaze at him, I take notice of his rather large, ropy belt – the hourglass its buckle. Suddenly, a gaze rolls across his person and his entire body seems to ripple. Rolling waves flutter across his being, and he quakes as if broken by the wind. For a brief moment, I swear his body explodes into millions of tiny amber granules.

Yellow, tiny crystals. As if he is made…of sand…

_You are losing it. Young one, such tall tales!_

Malfurion throws an affirming nod towards the unknown giant before throwing his gaze back upon Alexstraw…Alexstrang…Alex…and speaking, "Life Binder, do excuse my rudeness. I was merely stating how disturbed I am over recent happenings."

Fine black hair quivers as an Elfish head is weakly tilted my way, "You see, that boy has been foolishly been fused with a Treant, bestowing upon him gifts not deserving."

"And why might that be, Stormrage?"

"My Queen, he cannot possibly comprehend nor grasp the circumstances." Flustered lips flap, "Our people have spent tens of thousands of years perfecting the powers…"

Stammers bring uncertainty to his words. It is then, as his eyes lock upon me for another time, that the truth behind his stance is revealed, "He is a human! He is the direct creation Enluzen himself! His natural lust for power will drive him to the same ends as the one that spawned him!"

Complete disdain coats each word. He shakes violently, his lips malformed and furious. An arm quivers as he lets point a mangled digit in my direction.

"Malfurion," A gentle, calming sensation travels with her words, "One must not forget that you were not always welcome amongst the dream. You earned your place as must the humans."

Gleaming eyes born of fire land upon me, tranquil waves plant sanctity into my soul, "And he will prove for his kind whether they can bear such a burden."

The sedating orbs fall upon Malfurion, "Which brings me to the question of why did you summon us, Stormrage? Why are you not slumbering? Fighting amongst the dream?"

Her words batter the Elf, but his strength and confidence is impressive, "Dragon Queen, there have been…complications."

"Complications?" Intense concern launches assaults at the Elf.

He snaps his fingers at a pair of nearby guards, of which grab a large, circular table and drag it into the center of the room, "Well, recent engagements have proven fatal, and fierce skirmishes have drawn our lines thin. It would seem…"

Oddly, his eyes divert to our pack. One by one he stares us down, as if attempting to shoo us with his gaze alone. His mouth flutters, but no words dare escape. If I didn't know any better, he doesn't want us to hear this…

"Lady," eyes roll to the giant woman, "care for privacy?"

Alex throws her gentle gaze upon his, searching our souls for unseen answers. A narrow brow bestows deep thought. A meek frown signifies internal debate. And heavy sighs quickly denote the negative side of this decision. Yet, before she can even speak, a deep voice rolls from once quiet dwarf.

"Woah. Woah." He marches to the front of the pack, arms waving wildly, "Big A, don't ye'go and banish ol'Brann from the _in_ crowd!"

He speaks to Alex, "Ye know Brann hasn't steered ye wrong, don't ye? I have kept all secrets and even revealed some to ye! Now doesn't that deserve a little….something? Huh, huh?"

Fat fingers roll together as if demanding payment, "All I be ask'n fo'is a wee bit of knowledge fo'me'n'me friends. That is fair, right? Right?"

Leaning forward, he flicks his eyebrows in efforts to stir the Queen into compromising. Alas, despite his rather straight forward business attempts, she does not seem completely swayed. She crosses her arms and runs her long, smooth fingers across her chin in heavy thought.

"Like hellfire am I sitting this one out!" Nathanos comes into sight, wagging his finger at Alex, "We have marched half this stupid planet's girth to make it here! We have sucker-punched Deathwing, dodged armies of shadow tools, and fought Old Gods!"

His ranting at its best…

"And a few hours ago, that Worm over there ate a Tree's soul, and vomited out hundreds of amazing little creatures that bit, slashed, and flew!"

I didn't literally vomit them out…

"You should have seen them! But I digress!" He shakes his head as if removing his attention deficiency form his person, "He cured Jaina of her poison, mercilessly beat the Dark General into crying like a girl, and allowed us to escape to…whatever this place is."

He didn't cry…

Quietly, Darion attempts to rid Nathanos of ignorance, "Astranaar, Undead. We are in Astranaar."

"Yeah, Astranot…or…whatever. Anyway, I think Worm here deserves to hear what you have to say. And if Worm deserves to hear something, then I sure as hell do." He sighs, "And the rest of them too. Even the dwarf. Even…the…dwarf…"

Silence follows the unbelievably difficult to follow chain of logic just spewed forth. Nathanos, of course, nods as if he just spoke words wiser than all the philosophers of this world. The Queen, however, simply narrows her eyes and throws her arms to the side.

"Very well. The undead makes confusing yet valid…"

"You are going to have to drag my undead, stinking corpse from this room if…" Nathanos wildly shouts and briefly returns to finger shaking before promptly quelling his uproar, "Oh, blast, you said yes. I was hoping for some more shouting…"

"You done, undead?" Malfurion angrily stares at Nathanos.

Marris sighs, and gestures to allow Malfurion to continue – Nathanos' attempts at showing he is beat. The Elf grunts and peers over at the bemused Queen. Shaking her head slowly, she tries to decipher what just occurred. Wisely, she looks over to Malfurion, and motions him to continue on.

Hesitantly, Malfurion marches towards the table draped in a heavy cloth and scans it intently. After a few moments, he gives a nod to something within his own head. Finally, after a near minute of awkward silence, he speaks.

"Lady, Master Nozdormu, everyone else," disgust fills the last two words, "Recent events have been rather discouraging."

He motions to a big, unfamiliar blob on what appears to a be a huge map, "But before I can even dare report on happenings of late, I have a few decades of information to unfold first."

"Decades!" Brann squeals in delight, "Ay, lad, that is just what Brann wanted to hear!"

Nathanos sighs, "Decades? How long is that going to take?"

Malfurion glares at Marris before clearing his throat and gazing towards Alex – the undead fully ignored, "Our last meeting occurred nearly one-hundred years ago, and, sadly, the Aspects were far more numerous…"

He glances at who I believe to be Nozdormu before returning to Alex, "Nonetheless, as the Dragons have suffered, so has the Dream."

A brief pause as he composes himself.

"At first, the armies of the Dark Ones were of naught, but as the years passed, we found ourselves drawing more and more druids to deal with their increasing assaults." He jabs at the map with one hand, "Hakkar rose first, his failed efforts at freedom giving him the needed jolt to crawl into the dream."

Teal fingers, clad in brown leather glide across the sheet, "C'thun awoke second, his armies massing as the heroes of this planet slaughtered his physical manifestation."

Finally, he sweeps to the edge closest to him, tabbing the sheet a few times, "Lastly, within the prior year, the mortals drove Yogg'Saron back into his pit, and into his final blight for freedom."

He sighs, "All while the anomaly known as the Nightmare began to spread." Tilted head notions at the edge nearest us, "It began as a mere nuisance, a gnat to be swatted. But as years passed, the thicket of terrors grew, devouring hundreds of druid in its wake."

I cock an eyebrow at the paper, my puzzlement evident. I get the old gods, but Nightmare? That is the shadows right? Or is that something else?

_You are correct. Young one, they are one in the same_.

Really? Bah, I must have missed something. Suddenly, as I gaze curiously, I feel a waft of relaxation caress my soul, as if something is gazing upon me…

"Stormrage, do explain what that might be to our hero here."

Without looking, I know that Alex read perfectly. I am apparently a picture book that just about anyone can decipher…

"Very well, Queen." He grunts weakly, "The Nightmare, _champion_, is believed as many to be our true fears manifested within a world near perfection. While that may be true, the mortal's perspective is flawed and riddled with holes."

Looking up, I catch sight of an Elf losing himself in thought, "It has existed for tens of thousands of years, a mere swirling storm amongst a sea of beautiful blue. Crashing calamities were born at its base, yet no true disturbances to witness. Not until…that fateful day…"

Air draws heavily into his lungs, what he says disturbing him, "The Five Dragon Aspects gathered to end the coming of a great evil. They channeled their strengths, yet only found weaknesses. It was the creation of the Dragon Soul that shattered more than the Dragon's reality…"

Intensity gathers as he continues.

"For as the energies swirled, twisted, and sparked into existence…an iniquitous being awoke from a terrible sleep: Enluzen. He embraced the world as it was; the reality unlike what he had imagined. Rage filled his soul. Hatred ravaged his heart. And as he came to the revelation of his existence…he let forth a bellow that rumbled like earthquakes and clashed like thunder. Only a few could dare stand its wake. And I, upon the lands of Kalimdor, could hear it clearly."

His eyes wander towards the paper, his mind consuming all that he sees.

"But I wasn't the only one to embrace the cry. Deathwing, the dark traitor, took to the voice in maddening fashion. It was with the Dragon Soul that Deathwing could communicate with his master at all times. He fed upon it, lived for it, and was nearly destroyed by it. That was until Rhonin here removed the tether that linked Deathwing and his foul master."

He hesitates, what to come unpleasant.

"Even after the Soul's destruction, Deathwing yearned for the call, crawling into the very planet to satiate the hunger. The voice drew him into Deepholm. It forced him into the land of the Elements. It placed him where Vengeance desired so, but could never reach." Eyes shift back and forth wildly, "Enluzen used Deathwing not only as his greatest minion, but as an instrument for his freedom."

Malfurion quakes, his lips twisting with fury.

"Enluzen, as he waited within his prison, discovered that he could not simply use his might to break free. That each shackle consumed much of the power he absorbed. So, luring King Greymane, he used the mortal's trust in Prestor, Deathwing's human Avatar, to get the King here to steal the last fragment of the Soul. Within the hollowed halls of his lost bastion, Greymane brought Vengeance the piece he needed. Enluzen channeled the final energies of the Soul to break the gold casing, to give him sight, and…to reveal his bounds. More so…to reveal the keys to said shackles…"

He makes no efforts to glance towards the King – his gaze fully upon his internal images.

"And when the time was right, he sent Deathwing back to his lair. Using the dragon, he spoke to the Elemental Masters. Using Deathwing, he struck deals with each one." Rage consumes his words, "He would grant them unlimited power. He would grant them vast plains to roam. He would give them what he so yearned for. Freedom…"

Fists slam on to the table.

"Freedom for freedom! And, upon their acceptance, he plunged into their souls and ripped a fragment of their essence as the key he needed. With keys at hand, he waited until the time was right. He hid…until the precise moment was upon them. He waited until...explosions tore the planet asunder, and earthquakes rolled across the plains. Until all elements were brought to raging."

Oddly, as he speaks, it is as if the temperature of the room is increasing.

"The Cataclysm. Deathwing's return. Ha! It is a ruse! A mere fallacy of the truth. He is hiding his actions. As we speak, he marches upon the World Trees, the keys in his fouled fists. As we speak, water and air are unleashed. As we speak, the Firelord's gate is shattered, and the flames of his fury march upon Nordrassil to the north."

Words slip past gnarled lips, "The red gate you may have seen while battling the General is the broken gate, Vengeance's realm for all to bear. It is a tattered, ruined portal of his captivity. And by gouging its true purpose, he has ripped a hole between this world and the dream."

Clawing nails dig wood and roll the map.

"He is defiling the dream! He is breaking the gateways of the two realities! He is…" fury fades to despair "…removing his shackles."

"Impossible!" The male elf next to Alex shouts, "Those were designed, crafted, and protected by the Titan's and their greatest warriors!"

Malfurion shakes his head, "Yes, but those same warriors cannot protect the gate from this world. They cannot stop Vengeance from unlocking the portals at the World Trees if he is assaulting them from this realm."

"Malfurion," Alex intervenes, moving towards Night Elf, "Are you telling me that Vengeance has all the essences? That in a matter of minutes he will be bathing in life's greatest glory?"

Black hair oscillates side to side, its once orderly fashion diminished by wandering strands, "No. Thankfully, Therazane knew the being's plot. Unlike Al'akir, who discovered his foolish means far too late, Therazane the Earth Mother kept her purity intact and fled to the sanctuary of Scholazar Basin, never to make the bargain her brothers had concocted. She was safe. That is…until the Lich King destroyed the Life Tower, the structure that shielded her from harm."

Lungs draw in harsh air. Lips part to allow for its heavy release. And as it does, heat rolls across my brow, a bead of sweat curling upon my forehead.

"Therazane's bastion was swarmed, armies of the Shroud filling the unseen realm. Just barely was she able to escape, able to flee before it was too late. Alas, we did not know where to hide her. So, out of desperation, we took her to the only place we knew Enluzen couldn't reach…Deepholme."

"Right under Deathwing's nose…" Alex releases a weak chuckle, "…that would dent his ego greatly if he ever discovered that plot."

Malfurion tilts his head, eyes sweeping the table as some unseen answers are there for him to discover. Perusing orbs seek for ends to means beyond all sight and beyond all comprehension. He is hunting for something. Or maybe…is simply trying to rid himself of something that is stirring in the back of his mind.

It is then, as I gaze upon him, that the Night Elf gazes up at me, his once hateful expression lost to sorrow. His eyes lock with mine, and for a fleeting second, we plunge into each other's very existence. At this very moment, from his sudden flinch and quivering lips, that he finds what he was looking for…

"So, now for the true answer to your question, human. The Nightmare. You have seen it. I can tell from your eyes. You know more of the plane than any words could ever explain. A land where you relive your worst moments over and over. An existence where all happiness is lost to sadness and unrelenting fury."

More sweat gathers upon my face he embraces my being, "It is there where you either fall into nothingness, or fill your heart…with vengeance. And its full might is nearly upon us all..."

And with his final words, the room grows silent. All thought upon the moment. I draw air, harsh, gritty air. It is like standing upon an unmerciful desert, the dry, bitter sands grinding down the back of my throat. The sun feels as if feet away, the thermal aura ridiculous.

Malfurion throws his eyes upon the table once again, the top of his head all to embrace. He sighs, shaking his head back and forth slowly.

"So here we stand, Life Binder, at the edge of the end. The report at hand?" Wearily, he points at a portion of the map that juts off as a tiny pennisula. "The vast majority of the dream is lost to the shadows. Entire cities lost to the shroud, their fate's unknown. And this, this land here is the final refuge for my druids."

A momentary pause allows for him to upright and dignify himself once again, "The dream is fading, its true nature almost nonexistent. The nightmare consuming the once great haven of perfection."

"So what now, Malfurion?" Alex eyes him throughly, no hate, disappointment, or fury to bath him in, just simple concern. "What course of action does our Guardian require of us?"

For a brief second he closes his eyes. The night elf takes in all thoughts, all routes of reason, and coils them into a single package of certainty. He composes all that was lost in his tale, and hides what shall haunt him for all eternity. And, upon doing so, he allows for the confident man to return. For the Guardian to rise once more.

"Protect Therazane. Protect her at all costs."

His words roll from his lips as powerfully as his stunning stance. The course of action for all us to bear. The commands straight and true. The words...lost to a thunderous clap that rolls rhythmically from behind.

Spinning, I am drawn to the uproar that booms at the base of the ramp at my feet. It is there that a man towers before us -- his height matching Alex's. His hands beat a melody of malicious dealings. Blackened flesh is illuminated by crevasses of cracked skin that run from his knuckles and vanish beneath the pitch-black sleeves of his robes. Pillars of intermingling orange, yellow, and red build from each sundered path as if fire itself is escaping the grotesque wounds. Just barely can one make out their course beneath the cuffs before they fade to darkness.

Embers build upon these same cuffs as do they upon all edges of the garments. Flickering gently, they emit dull glows that gleam brightly amidst the folds of black. Much of is true person is lost to the clothing he bears, say for the paws that pummel one another and his neck. Sparkling flares ignite at the collar. Valleys of molten fury follow the lines of his bulging muscles, spewing spigots of colored flame from each gaping chasm. They run to a thicket of singed hairs that form a beard of black, orange tinged hairs.

A mustache caresses his upper lip and hides below a set of vertical ascending gashes. Beginning at his cheekbones, they run jagged, hideous lines of fiery fury up his face. Expanding horizontally, they create diamond shaped sunders of diabolical patches that secrete wafting waves of orange and rouge. Coming to an end at his eyes, they are dulled by the glowing pits of bright yellow that form the whites of his eyes. Lifeless seas surround a set of black holes, all shades of light devoured by the soulless pits.

Both pitch-black pupils stand out amongst the oceans of amber, their fury locked upon the man at the table. Both malicious makers of sight single out the Night Elf as their target. Both spew forth ravenous fury, yet express an unyielding sense of sickening delight. Both rest below a scruffy patch of black, unkempt hair -- smoldering and billowing smoke as if on fire. Both...reminders of a city of not so long ago. Both...leading to the beast that we met at the keep...

"My, my..." a voice of unparalleled depth, crackling like a raging forest fire, is unleashed from his partially glowing mouth, "...such a grand tale! Such a marvelous plot. Perfectly pleasing, Malfurion."

A sinister smirk forms at the edges of his lips, "But your lies mask all, Elf."

From the side of the room, I can hear the disgruntled voice of the King, "Lies? You would know plenty of them, wouldn't you. Prestor..."

Prestor, that name is familiar...

Calling my focus, the being speaks without even embracing the King, "I do not believe I was speaking to you, fool."

The air itself ripples around his very person as his tone intensifies.

"Prestor, did you intercept an invitation or merely invite yourself?" Malfurion redirects the focus upon himself.

"I was simply in the area," he sucks in air as if a blast furnace, "And couldn't help but ease drop over the story. So close to the truth, yet much lost in translation."

His arms fall to his side, and he oddly tilts backwards. It is as if his own body cannot handle its own weight...

"Brother," Alex's calming voice radiates disbelief, "What have you done to yourself?"

"Do you like?" His eyes shift in their sockets, his body not moving an inch, "My master found it more...suiting. Does it frighten you, sister?"

"No, brother, your soul was as twisted as your flesh long ago. It is about time you let the world see you for what you are..." she spits on the ground "...a monster."

Deep, terrifying rumbles roll as laughter from his harsh lips, "Call me what you desire, my sister, your petty names will stir no response from me. For in the end, you will bear the same visage as I do. And that end...is very...close...at...hand..."

Swift, rapid footsteps travel from behind and come to a stop at my side, the towering woman in sight, "Oh, is that so, brother? Are you implying that your master has the final key, or that you are as blindly optimistic as ever?" She smirks, "I do believe that Therazane has and still eludes your grasp. Your fault, if I recall."

"LIES!" Fires rage from the bursting wounds, their cracks ripping new trails in his flesh, "The Earth Mother was never in Deepholm! The very thought...INSULTING!"

Uncontrolled fury flows from his fiery lips...

"I have had enough of your ramblings, sister!" The ground trembles, the very planet terrified by the onslaught, "Speak no more!"

From his actions, it would definitely seem that Alex struck a nerve. Alas, in a flash, the weight of the world, and the heat of a thousand suns envelops my person. His eyes are upon me...

"You, mortal, are rather impressive. Alas, despite your successes, the recent events have proven...fortuitous for myself," The fires quell as the smirk returns, the thoughts unnervingly joyous for said beast, "It would seem that my master now has to get what he desires by more...direct routes."

Shifting eyes dance as if feasting upon my very person, "You may have defeated the useless Dark Elder's attempts at freedom, but my master can still use you. However, in order for that too happen...you have to be...dead."

Chills consume my heart, frosty tendrils assaulting my very core.

"Even though I possess the ability to maim you in fashions indescribably horrific at this very moment, I shall not. Where is the entertainment in that?" He cackles are like weak explosions, "So, out of a mixture of my glorious mercy, and insatiable hunger of the hunt, I shall give you a head start."

He throws an arm to the side, pointing at something in the distance.

"I will even allow use of that vehicle. Use it. It will be a grand chase. My predator...to your prey..."

My eyes shift in their sockets, drifting to those around me. One by one, I search my companion's eyes for answers. One by one, I seek for resolutions behind this one. One by one...I find the horrible truth to it all...

"Time starts now, mortal." Hesitating, I feel his rage upon me as I refuse to move, "RUN, YOU INSOLENT WHELP. RUN!"

Unable to control myself, my legs catapult forward. In seconds, I traverse the vast of the courtyard, rumbling footsteps roaring from all those following close behind. We near the vehicle in a matter of no time. Slowing, I embrace the machine, looking for any doors that might be of us. Sadly, before I can dare touch the craft, Nathanos darts into side, rips open the rear hatch and scurries inside. Close behind is Sylvanas, her concern naught.

"Marris, if you even touch that wheel I am going to demote you to maggot so fast..."

Interrupting her, he shouts from within, "Thousand pardons, Lady, but as you said, you are no longer my Queen. Therefore, shut it. This baby is mine."

I can hear muffled grunts and ramblings of a Queen, but I think those are best left unsaid.

"Death Knight, worry not of Jaina!" A firm, masculine voice draws me. It is Rhonin, his position at the ruined edifice, "Go, travel with the boy! She is safe in my hands!"

Darion throws a nod, turns, scoops up a dwarf and a Stuupee, and lunges for the vehicle. Before he can make it in, I leap onto the small step, scamper through the hollow, multi-seated craft and make towards a strange ladder up ahead. Coming to it, I glance upwards and notice a small trickle of light. Curiously, I stretch upwards flip upon a small hatch and pull myself up. Looking around, I let the gentle breezes cool me from events prior.

"Hope, grab the gun!" Darion yells, and I spin. Sticking from a second port near the rear of the ship is the Knight, a rather large cannon in his mitts, "You picked the spot, now make use of it!"

Great, there I go again, giving myself unnecessarily important roles...

Suddenly, a central hatch flips open, and a large hat shoots through. "Ah, a great view of the happenings! Brann always likes a front seat ta the action!"

At that moment, a hear a loud clanking and the sounds of a sputtering engine. In seconds, the weak pistons begin to roar, their strength nearly satisfied. Gears grind, values vibrate, metal oscillates. We are good to go...

"One second, heroes!" The sweet voice of Jaina's calls from below, Rhonin guiding her to the front of the craft. "Here, I grant what little power I still possess..."

She slaps the side of the vessel, pockets of chilled frost crawling from her palm. Feeding the vehicle, the sides secrete icy fumes and ice-sickles gather at the muzzle of my barrel.

Collapsing, Rhonin keeps her on her feet, "There, I am betting ice will do you better...than...fire..."

Rhonin gathers her and throws us a focused, concerned glare. With his final glance, and his final words, he gives us the sign we need to flee, "What are you waiting for? Get out of here!"

Without missing a beat, the undead throws his foot to the floor. Wheels track dirt as they spin wildly. Rhonin stumbles backwards, dodging pockets of heaving muck. And, in a display of dust and debris, the vehicle jerks forward -- throwing us rearward. Gathering myself, I watch the two magi slowly fade into insignificant dots, a King holding his champion feet behind them. To their side stands a trio of towering behemoths. Two of which stand for all that is good, while the third...basks in the darkness of the shadow.

And as a crushed rooftop begins to overtake the sight, the being known as Prestor roars, "Sister, I have waited since Grim Batol for this very moment. And I shall savor...every...second..."

"We defeated you once, Deathwing. The same end is inevitable." Alex's voice all that remains as the sight vanishes behind the ruins.

I grasp the gun tightly in my hand, the vehicle rocking me fiercely. My feet are planted firmly upon something unseen, yet sturdy as can be. Crunching wood echoes from beneath the belly of this metallic beast. Snapping timber travels up the iron's monster's sides. We rumble on, fleeing our only concern. We drive at full speed, escape our only option. And as the ruins fade from path, soft, firm grass the only traction left, an eerie silence consumes us all. Bouncing across a dried riverbed, we shoot past a field of broken vehicles, tattered remains of buildings, and crippled corpses.

Cries of nearby soldiers fill our ears, but are lost to the screams of the engine. Clinking arrows slap futilely against the thick hide, and a spike wall is smashed by the raging fury of the vehicle. Elves lock with Orcs. Tauren smash with tentacle-faced giants. A useless war not ours to fight. Speeding on, we leave the furious fighters to their feuding. Hastily riding, we glide towards a pass in a wall of mountains ahead of us. Shooting like a bullet across the field of green, we aim for a tainted bastion of yellow plains before us.

As we near, I can hear the undead from within call, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are heading into the Barrens! Ignore all chatter, and keep focused!" He chuckles, "Lastly, enjoy the ride."

He quiets, allowing the engine to be our only source of sound. It is a gentle hum, reminding us of what is to come. It is a meek call, the notice of the horrors that still face us. It is lost noise...to the roar that shatters the silence. A roar bellowing from the belly of the city of Astrannar. A scream of the monster that initiate's the chase. A holler...of the beginning of the end...

And as my eyes sweep the darkened trees of this forest, I embrace the fury that follows. I can almost taste the fires of his unseen flame. I can almost feel the heat of his fiery fury. And, for a brief, fleeting moment...

I almost miss the Dark General...


	32. Chapter 29: Fire, fire, fire!

**_"Winged hypocrites! Dragons: the noblest, wisest, purest of creatures, yet they wage war amongst themselves like any mortal tribe! Ha! And they mock us for such narrow-sighted actions! At least we mortals are humble enough to admit that we slaughter each other upon mere looks alone...hic"_**

**_Antonidas during one of his drunken rants. Actually, his only drunken rant...to be honest...

* * *

_**

Dirt billows from hastily spinning tires. Gravel grinds against grimy, whirling axels. Pistons push to pulverizing all internal actuations. Smoke spills from side-spigots. They are all the actions of an engine working at full capacity. They are all the combined cogs of unit at flight. And they all function to limits unfounded and reckless…

But they must…for what chases us forces means of such dire circumstances…

Focusing back upon the road, I take sight of the nearing pass. Light glides gently through the meager dip in the mountains. A flimsy wall holds weakly before our stampeding movement. Two pairs of stilts give support to a single tower – a set of orcish guards leisurely at post. A cute barricade.

And as we near, the once slacked soldiers jump into alarm, their voices echoing upon the hollowed valley walls. Their words mean little to me, their language unknown. In a flash, we barrel down upon the now gathering group of grunts. In seconds, we hurl onwards as they muster arms to assault are progressive. And in a loud burst, Darion's cannon screams from behind…

Whipping into sight is a bright-blue ball of spiraling icy energies. Projecting its hue upon the very ground it glides over, it forms an illusionary track of its precise course. It slams against one of the wooden legs, popping as a beautiful pustule of frozen wrath. Alas, the collision does no sound structural support damage.

"Great!" Darion shouts from behind, "Of course the first obstacle we come across requires the use of fire and brimstone! Very well." He pauses momentarily to change focus, "Hope, get your shovel…"

As the words slip his lips, I make for my unordinary instrument of destruction; however, before I dare make an effort, a weak burst flutters from above. My eyes shift in the sound's direction, but what occurred finds me sooner than I can it. Spiraling into view, a perfect sphere of mixing ruby and orange descends as a projectile of flame's wrath…

_BRURUSH_

A fireball of fiery wrath vaporizes the upper section of the tower. Two more inferno spheres light the sky. Two more explosions wreak havoc. All that remains is a tumbling, tilting tower and orcish figures bailing ship. As it crumbles, two legs knocked from under it, we shout as a mere blur beneath its ruined base.

And just as equally, we watch it fall, smashing the gate and fading into nothingness.

"To the skies, lads!" A joyous dwarf roars, "Red dragons! Red, beautiful dragons!"

Throwing my sight to the heavens, I have to scan but a moment before spotting the pack of gliding, glorious guests above us. A good distance from the ground, the dozen soaring beasts beat the air quietly yet fiercely. They slither upon the skies, their spiked tales wriggling in a frenzy compared to the near still torso. What are they doing?

_You see your extreme escorts. Young one, they are here for your safety!_

Good thing, we are going to need them…

"Lads, we got ourselves some trouble if Big A sent us some little wrigglers!" I break sight from the winged protectors to glance down at gleeful man, "Bah, of course we do! Ye remember that beast, eh, Hope? That HUGE monster?"

His beady eyes lock upon me, but I am still infatuated with soaring beasts. Fortunately for me, I can watch their movement from the shadowy silhouettes painted upon the amber crusted terrain of the barrens. One, two, three, four, many more shadows speckled upon the ground.

"Ah, I can still remember that giant jerk!"

He chuckles, and I break from shadow staring.

"How did ye do it lad? How did ye stare him down but feet away?" Overzealous lips continue to spew gibberish, "I would of needed new pants!"

Eyes drift back to the pack. I now count five shadows…and what appears to be a massive cloud…

"Whooee! I feel like I did when I first entered Ulduar!"

Back to Brann.

"Guards everywhere! Metal Dwarf-wannabes!"

Eyes navigate to the shadows. Odd, there are now two giant patches, almost like two fast moving clouds…

"Cannons firing! Pew, pew! Haha. Good times, lad. Good times..."

Second by second each one grows larger. Sounds of crackling fire fill the air. The once silent beasts apparently gathering flame. Larger and larger both bulky pockets of darkness become, one quickly showering us in cooling shade. They…oh no…they are…

"Mortals!" Serenity's sweet song chimes desperately from above, "Steel yourselves!"

Gripping my gun, I throw my eyes upwards. Descending at a fierce angle is the stealthy Dragon Queen in her finest form. Barreling over us, she barely makes a sound as she glides down our direct path. Instantly, as my heart numbs and soul silently screams, do I catch sight of the pursuer…his once subtle stance lost to his roaring landing…

"Bite-sized snacks within a pressure cooker!" Enormous fiery wings tilt to slow his massive bulk, "Sirred to perfection, in a matter of seconds! All need apply...heat.."

Charred sheets of metal cling to his limbs and flesh, glinting in the light. Each piece of iron is as long as our craft, and covers his body in near full protection. Melted, mangled horns still hold above his bright, merciless pools of piercing yellow. The same jagged, warped fangs outline before a volcanic mouth of blaring amber horrors.

"It will be all over soon, my tasty morsels!" Feet slam into the harsh earth, sundering and splintering to the monster's weight, throwing shockwaves with each stomp, "Feel the flames born from Azeroth's very heart!"

The sounds of a thousand twisting tornadoes rumble from his inhaling mouth. Glowing colors intensify to the air drawn into his vast abyss. Waves of thermal radiation skew all reality and ripple the heavens like waves upon a desert floor. I make to shoot my gun, but the heat will eat whatever I dare concoct…

_THUD THUD THUD_, rapid stomps rumble from the front of the craft, "Steer well, mortal! Take shelter beneath my bosom and beating wings, heroes!"

Twisting, I get full view of the ruby dragon marching directly towards us. Long, rhymthic strides beat upon the firm soil – perfect timing for a man such as Nathanos. Left leg down, he veers to the right. Right leg against the dirt, he corrects his course. It is now the two of us meet as the explosion equal to an bursting sun roars from the rear.

Time slows. Darkness shades in cooling safety. Her underbelly shines a bright orange; a unique tinted patch of gleaming scales here. One can make out each, perfect scale. One can examine every piece of sparkling chunks of gold upon her feminine limbs - dragon's insatiable desire for treasures and jewelery. And one can make out death's inferno incoming from the ever-intensifying glint from each item built of gold.

It is upon us, the sheer sheen of her accessories blinding to the sight…

Jerking limbs bang against metal railings, Nathanos at the wheel. One scaly leg slides as the wall of unbearable heat slams against Alex's selfless barrier. Another leg flinches, we shift direction suddenly –skilled maneuvering and fierce turning.

And as quickly as we took shelter in her shadow, we eject from the heated pocket of protection. Turning, I take in the horrid spectacle helplessly. Slipping against a constant stream of intense white, yellow, and orange, is the grand Dragon Queen – her wings a shield deflecting the flame.

Her very flesh glows, the heat too much for her leathery hide. Her head is hidden, but her horns ignite to the fires. Her form outlined by funnel of constant flame. While the dark beast holds firm before her. Armor plates upon Deathwing's back shine neon orange, superheated. Charred grass fizzles around his base while pockets of nearby terrain spontaneously-combust.

Rolling waves of burnt air form thermal shockwaves around his and her body. A jaw is opened to limits unbelievable, a torrent of fires unleashed from his unlimited supply. His stance is confident and sinister. And his eyes…burning as if feasting upon her agony. Foul beast! I reach for my shovel. I will show you something to savor!

Disappointedly, as I go for my furious spade, a rumbling bursting from overhead is followed by a gargantuan ball of sparkling ochre. This sphere, unlike the two counterparts', shifts as if made of a thousand tinier spheres – a million miniscule grains gliding for the glowing monster.

As the ball nears, it shines, glows red and melts, transforming into thousand slivers of glinting glass. Many deflect upon the armored plates, but the sheer sleek design of many slip past the coatings and slam into Deathwing's very heart…

Hollering, the spigot of spewing damnation is stopped. Screams of terrifying anguish dwarf even his mightiest of bellows. Relishing in the monster's plight, a yellow dragon, coated in hundreds of jagged diamonds, soars over him. And it is upon this very amber serpent where Deathwing's new fury lies.

"Nozdormu! Even you must cease cowering for someone as great as I!" He adjusts his posture, eyes upon the amber dragon, "Master of Time threatened by the Lord of Destruction! How marvelous!"

Molten wings shoot to the sides, stirring gusts of heated air as they oscillate. Drifting from the ground, he leaves the pulverized Queen to compose herself. Gliding into the sky, the monster loses all motivation for my prey and aligns upon the fleeing Nozdormu.

"Aye lad, did you see that?" Brann shouts, "I cannot believe this! Oh man! Ah, I am happier than the first time I had rum!"

Darion pivots in his seat, "Truly, dwarf, must you make so much noise? I think Deathwing is quieter than your uproars!"

As I watch the two, Alex in the background, shifting into flight after the other two, I feel something brush against my leg and scurry up my chest. I look down, but I find nothing. That was weird. Am I losing my mind?

_You really have to ask that? Young one, a tree is talking to you in your head…you are way beyond that…_

Yeah, that is about right…

_CHIRP_

A loud squeak draws me to the climbing culprit. Instantly, I find the tiny menace against a small railing built just for her. She peers at something to the right side of the craft, and I spin myself in an awkward fashion to take in what she is so intrigued by. It takes but a second to savor in her rather remarkable, inquisitive nature.

To the right side of the road and our insanely speedy craft is a massive mountain. There are many features about this lone peak, standing solo amidst a vast plain of amber, which strikes me as odd. Firstly and most notably is the fact it stands by itself. I mean, as I sweep the terrain around us, I see numerous ranges comprising of two or more noticeable peaks surrounded by ever-stretching barren fields. And, as I peruse, I do believe I see a small outpost in the distance - growing with every miliseond.

_You need to focus. Young one, the mountain?_

Oh yeah, the second oddity of this jagged structure is its color – and its rather misty, fog-coated top. Unlike the other tan towers of earthen design, it is dark in color - dark as in almost pitch-black. And, if I didn't know any better, than I would believe I see hundreds of tiny rivulets of sparkling gray running down the slopes. They fade from a silver into night's canvas of deep darkness. That is...weird...

"We are approaching the post known as The Crossroads!" Sweet Ruby Eyes shouts from within the hollow shell, "Prepare for a welcome deserving a set of robles, or...well...bandits. I am personally hoping for the latter, but a Queen can dream."

I give a weak glance at the now menacing town. We near it quickly, the anomaly formation lands dead center of the moving craft.

_CHIRP_

Glancing down at Squeal's, I fill my sight with orange beast. Her eyes drift back and forth, her hunter instinct at play. Tiny, darting eyes skip from shadow to shadow. She locks upon the mountain's looming gloom, but grows bored of its simplicity. Jerking muscles move a wildly focused head, her focus upon the numerous dragons overhead. I almost ignore the spots, if it weren't for the vast quantities of said variables. Looking towards the heavens, I discover that the once small dozen of winged red guardians has nearly tripled - amber and ruby alike. There are so many...

_CHIRP_

Sighing, I give the little, adorable annoying raptor one last look. Ice spatters from my pounding organic pump - each limb frozen in fright. Bones bite upon a bitter bile beholding. For what looms upon us is more than the mere mountain peak. What shrouds the near-lifeless strands of grass is the looming shadow of the monstrous stone structure.

The same shadow that shifts as if following us…

Bringing to life horrors unbelievable, the once normal shadow quivers, its elongated end tracking our every movement. It hones upon our very track. It pursues us endlessly. And as I watch, devouring the terrors, the world itself quakes. As I watch, the universe trembles. As I watch, all reality rumbles. As I watch…

The Cataclysm returns with all its grotesque glory…

"I'm not the only one feel'n this, right lads?" Brann nervously jeers.

Sighing, Darion twists and throws the tiny figure a glare, "As I much as I want to put you down for insanity reasons, I must still inform you that you are not alone, dwarf."

"We are all quaking, Brann. Don't you worry. We are all quaking…" I dare focus my energy upon something besides the rumbling, but it is futile.

For as I speak the world emits terrifying wails. Writhing, the planet's crust ripples and waves. Just as it was upon the fields of Trisifil, so it is here – Azeroth trembling to the might of a being of unparalleled power…

Shattering the heavens, and my eardrums, comes a booming blast from behind. Twisting, I am filled by the terrors of the prior peak. Now, the once heavy mist is sucked into the tip; a now swirling, brackish, red tornado. And from the eerie peak comes a pillar, a geyser of raging flames…

Gushing from the top, spurting like blood from a torn artery, is molten lava. Black smoke rushes into the skies, an epicenter of unpleasant clouds forming above the very peak. A volcano at its finest, but still unlike any other I have ever seen…

As the lava flows, slithering down the slopes, the very layer of black and pulsing streams cracks and coils. Something is admist…

"Minions!" A voice matching the very earthquakes in proportions fills the air, "The moment is upon us! Dreadmist Peak your point of rest no longer! To flight, winged harbingers of twilight! To war, ancient dragons of the black brood!"

It comes from all directions and dulls all senses…

"Battle upon the wake of cataclysm's chaotic calamity!" Each word, each syllable a mild tremor that envelops every inch, "Hear your master's call! Fill your souls with Vengeance!"

He calls...from lands unseen…

"Command the skies! Room enough for darkness alone!"

Before me, reacting to his very call, the sides of the mountain shift unnaturally. Peeling back from the very core of the mountain, the once tranquil flesh built of black lifts into the air. The sight is indescribably, the dark layers peeling backwards as if the peak is a diabolical floor at bloom. Shattering, the earthen skin breaks apart, revealing itself for what is truly is…

"A trap, my brothers!" Calls from overhead, "Twilight Dragons! Hiding upon the peak's sides!"

One by one, the beasts break from the volcanic mountain and are released upon the skies. Pitch-black dragons are given definite outlines by the very runes that run the course of their bodies. Dangling legs shake rhythmically. Shimmering teeth shine upon the slowly fading sunlight. And piercing, white eyes glint as death's diamonds.

Above, our escorts break from our route, heading towards their destiny. Both sides converge, the mountain's tan slopes exposed, and the beasts all but lifted from the surface – one hundred diabolical dragons to behold. Both sides near, two armies of ancient champions heading towards their ends. Both sides collide, fire, sand, and death all you find upon these barren heavens…

"MORTALS, YOUR MASTER CALLS!" Intensified quakes shake the moving vehicle to its core, "Know now , my children, that you are rebellious actions shall not go unpunished! Drive fast! Drive true! For the planet shall break beneath you!"

Uncontrollably, I return to the front. As I do, the world embraces a tremor beyond its capacity. Amber fields sunder, spouts of fire bursting into the skies. Once glorious terrain collapses into itself – the hollowed ground beneath unfit for the fury it endures.

To our left, a chasm of fire is born. Expanding at its side and stretching like a growing wound, the shattering intensifies. Deeper and deeper does the pit grow. Faster and faster does it shoot towards the town only a hundred yards away. And, as we approach the path of sanctuary, the road into the Crossroads, the elements turn against us…

Splitting as if commanded, the fire valley shoots off to the left…and right. Destroying our very path, the road, the earth, and all falls inwards into the traveling gash. From here, the new chasm is beyond traversing – the depth and girth unbelievable…

"Son of a!" Nathanos shouts from bellow, "Worm, I know you are fond of aggravating people…"

A swift jerk to the right redirects our route to continue parallel to the fire chasm.

"But you really pissed off the big one this time!"

Bouncing down a new course, I cannot take my eyes of the roaring, rumbling valley forming but feet away. Plumes of ashen debris rocket into the skies. Geysers of lava and now heated waters shoot upwards. The very planet is attacked and attacks...

It is then, as I gawk helplessly at the pit of purgatory, I feel an uneasy set of pricks roll down my neck. Oddly, I tilt my gaze up just a bit, filling my sight with a tiny hill. For some reason I feel as if I have been here before. As if I have embrace that spot known as the Hero's Fall before.

But it bears no champion, no crafter of Azeroth's history. No, what stands upon it is a demonic being. What stands upon it is enveloped by twisting fire, water, and air – the elements at his very command. What stands upon it tears this planet apart…his chase upon me. A man built of pitch-black…fire…

Vengeance…

"Sweet mother of rumsey rum!" Brann shouts horrified, "Look to the right. TO THE RIGHT!"

Before I can move, before I can react, the sounds of a thousand roaring engines fill the skies.

"You cannot escape our wrath, tiny creatures!" Coming into view, his path perpendicular to ours is the Destroyer, fires gliding from his mouth and against the wind, "Vengeance as seen the future! He concocts your very fate!"

Light radiates from his mouth, each fang outlined manically. Heat ripples from his very being. And fire gathers within his raging maw…

"And upon this field is where all your destinies convene! Death consume you, mortals!"

Bursting from his mouth, the monster spews forth a sphere matching a star's fury. Igniting the skies, it barrels onward. Staring upon it burns the eyes, but it is all I can embrace. Gazing at its might, sweat builds upon my brow. Its sheer size daunting…at least twice our vehicle's capacity…

It comes for us. It knows only our end. And as a cooling, shading darkness shrouds us in false hope, Deathwing's strength comes for the slaughter…

Closing my eyes, I know only fire. Waiting for the end, I feast upon only fiery flame. Basking in the roaring call of the orb, the trembling of the earth, I know how insignificant I truly am…

_You are a fool! Young one, you speak as if there is but one side to this story!_

"I got ya back, mon!" Gusts of furious wind and quaking ground follow in the wake of the glorious Troll's call. "Ya not be da only one can play wit da planet's toys, mon!"

Opening my eyes, I let the glorious sight fill my view. Above is a massive, mighty red dragon. Upon his back is the thrashing, twisting, staff spinning Shaman. And surrounding us all is a concoction built of a true hero. A barrier patched of earthen plates. A shield linked by hems of gushing water. A blanket held in place by the winds and readying for the strike…

Its size…twice that of Deathwing's fury…

_BRURSH_

A shockwave of heat, chilled water, and shattered air rushes across us. Clinks echo across the hull of the craft as the shield is shattered. Watching in delight, I let the beautiful mesh of aquamarine waves, ochre blocks, tan ripples, and orange blobs bring me confidence I so need.

Raining upon are the calmed elements, the collision ending their combined might. Tok's barrier is nothing but slivers of glass upon the winds, while the fires smack as tiny embers hundreds of yards ahead and behind.

But it is far from finished…

"Deathwing, mon, ya tink ya can play wit da big boys now?" Static draws my hairs to their ends. "Da ya tink ya awakening would change da world, mon?"

Lighting the skies, a Troll stands upon a grand steed. Arches of clashing lightning travels the length of the ruby beast and rolls furiously into the heavens. Gathering the power he knows so well, he, his ride, and Deathwing converge upon a single point…their paths plotted long ago…

"We beat ya into da planet once, mon!" Throwing his arms rearwards, he readies as Deathwing passes directly over him, "And ya yellow belly will be sent dere once more!"

Drawn inward, there is a but a brief pause in time as the electricity gathers upon his tiny body. Sparkling like an angel, and screeching like a banshee, the troll lets the element's fury reign. Shooting from his body, is a mighty orb that collides with the metal-coated beast's stomach…

Hollering in pain, and spurting in flight, the blow was effective. The destroyer stumbles upon his own wings as drunk. Nozdormu circles around the, lobbing sandy orbs upon the stunned beast. Alex pelts fireballs, while the triumphant Tok glides upon the wings of his supreme steed.

As for us, we barrel onward, another pass in the mountain just ahead. As for us, we ride past a small pocket of flame as the opening before us embraces us welcomingly. Rouge cliffs hang to both our sides, waiting for our arrival. A tan, rocky terrain readies for our flight. A small pocket of oddly roaring fires flickers as we barrel into Azeroth's open arms…

"FOOLS!" Rumbling, Deathwing's body ripples with thermal energy, his strength returned, "Such pathetic efforts! Futile and brash! They are but dents upon an invincible army!"

Fireballs gather upon his very flesh, shooting wildly at all nearby foes. Our heroes break from close pursuit, the fiery fury unrelenting. Turning, he heads towards the mountain lines precisely as we barrel into the chasm…

"See now, the true extent of my master's command! Behold, Lord of the Flames! Bathe this valley with your wrath!" His unseen, booming voice echoes within upon these once glorious walls, calling to something unseen, "Let none survive!"

His rumbling voice travels down the path we aim, bounces ominously across our craft and gathers upon a roaring inferno that rages from behind. A maelstrom of raging winds spew torrents of high-pitched hisses, thunders deafening booms, and stirs the very lands in frenzy.

"Foolish mortals!" A voice concocted from flames riled from Azeroth's very core – an erupting, gargling, crackling volcano spewing forth congealed words, "Cowardly, you have fled Shadows shroud!"

Steamy, heated gusts whip the edges of the craft, my body drawn into pivoting.

"Fearfully, you have ventured into bastions of unfortunate circumstances!"

Thrashing winds rise from the once small pool of fire. Stretching into the skies, its height half the towering chasm's walls is a twisting, coiling vortex. A screwdriver of flames spins at a slanted angle upwards, the bladed edges a bright white hue. Internal flames of the spiraling base burn a dark orange, meshing almost beautifully with the white edges.

As this corkscrew of chaotic fires comes to the middle of the towering behemoths, its very structure alters. Two black rocks, rivulets of orange lava flowing freely across their surfaces, form horizontally at the top of the spiral. Another set is built upon the first, its girth and length greater than the latter. Lastly, a third pair forms as its very chest, their sizes grandest of all.

Armor for the beast, its torso built of molten rocks.

Once again, it lets forth a mighty cry, "Foolishly, your desire for sanctuary shall be your demise!"

Flames pour from cracks in this torso, seeping into the air. Spanning from upper boulders is a set of thinner, yet still furious spirals of twisting fiery funnels. Halfway down these constructs are a set of thick, glinting, glowing bands of metal – heat exposed within ever-flowing paths of smelted iron.

One funnel, one arm, runs to a set of misshapen, rolling spikes – four mangled, molten fingers forming around a central palm. Upon the limb of the other is the same ends, but within the gnarled grasp is gripped a grotesquely grand instrument of destruction.

Jutting the entire length of our vehicle is a bright orange rod – its material unknown. Miniscule rivers run from the round, bulky butt of the tool, and flow to the gleaming chunk of steaming metal at the other end. Charred debris deposits upon various locations of the weapon, forming jagged spines of melted death.

Upon the end facing us is a oblong block of thick, dense ignited obsidian. Flat on its faces while curved at the top, the mighty hammer is a sight of despair and horror. Gigantic spikes protrude in perfect spacing upon the bulk of the head, but its design lost in its own horrific construction…

And, as I gawk as if dazed, the sulfuric slammer rises into the havens – the sun silhouetting its intensity. Drifting past its torso, gliding across its body, it passes by that which was almost forgotten. Attached upon its shoulders is a pair of spiky patches. Yellowish-white spines curl upwards and inwards above a patch of shattered brown spikes. It is as if a snapshot of a bursting volcano is captured upon each shoulder.

But their scheme means nothing; say for that which they envelop. For between both of these spiny spectacles, is a twisted, crushed combination of what can only be described as a rock that exploded, yet maintained some shattered integrity.

Numerous blocks of heated boulders form a malicious jaw line, its mouth built of a dozen pointed rocks. A set of rocky cheekbones rise and envelop a pair of burning, focused, yellow eyes. But these are not as if natural orbs. No, they are mere hollowed pits, raging fires filling the void as if mortal optics.

Twisting, the towering monstrosity draws the weapon into a position of proper assault. Hanging over his body, towering pillars of flame pouring from his shoulders, back, and very head itself, roll into the heavens, intensifying the sight. It is here...he readies an assault...

"Behold…the fury…of Ragnaros the Firelord!"

Hurled, the mace catapults at our vehicle's rear. Colliding into the earthen soil, the mighty hammers explodes into a pool of rolling, raging flames. A shockwave of fire ignites all terrain, sending ripples of rolling rock in our direction.

Jerking violently, the vehicle is rocked by the onslaugh. Swerving, fish-tailing, the machine is kept in control by our skilled driver. Alas, my split moment of inspiration is lost to the growl of the hollering firelord's very existence.

Rumbling like a rolling earthquake, the beast takes to moving like an accelerating steam tank.

"Lads, lads, LADS!" Brann screeches fearfully, I throw my sight rearward once more, "Fire, fire, FIRE!"

Enveloping my sight, larger than before, barrels forth the firelord. Blocking the sun itself, the flaring lord of flame burns as if a forest fire of its own manifestation. Trails of massive, billowing conflagrations char the skies. An elliptical display of profound magnitudes…

A cannon rumbles, Darion's weapon at work. An icy barrage showers the beast. Un-phased, it continues the pursuit. Quickly, I drag the heavy metallic item into my mitts, shift it upon its rolling track, tilt the barrel upwards and fire – at this distance, aiming sold separately.

My fingers smack the trigger as a rookie dare do. Gentle kick-up shakes my body, but its construction well founded. Together, we lob blobs of frosty delight. Together, we quench the flames, slowing him slightly. It would seem Jaina that you did…

"Hold on to your faces, you ninnies!" Nathanos interrupts my thoughts. "We are gonna catch some air!"

I try to make sense of his ranting, but his actions generally give the best of definitions. Growing weightless, my feet lift from the craft. Fierce forces pull at my back. The craft tilts forwards.

All is still for but a moment…

Crashing into the ground, pain snaps at my legs as they smack the base. Compounding metal screeches in agony. Grotesque grinds rattle from within. Sounds of snapping iron ricochet across the sides. Shaking and wobbling, the craft jerks to and fro uncontrollably. In the corner of my I notice a wheel hopping merrily away…

A gentle chirp fills my air, and without missing a beat, I spin, reach into the air, and snag a tiny, floating beast. Pulling her to me in the knick of time, I feel a quick burst of unwelcome adrenaline course through my veins.

At the same time, Darion drags a lost dwarf back into position – his own pet to rescue. Once we are seated, the craft swerves one last time, aligns upon the path, and the bleak security returns. Glancing towards the ridge from whence we plummeted, I find no firelord nor any remnants of his existence…

And as he fades from sight, so does he from mind...

"Get out of the way you daft imbesols!" This time, it is Sylvanas…her voice ringing from outside. "We are in a hurry! Don't make me leap out of this thing and move you myself?

What in the world is she yelling at?

Twisting, I accidentally discover the position of my Lady – her upper body sticking out of a gun port. Well, at least I think that is a gun port. Anyway, as I stare at her I notice moving figures upon the road.

Tents, mats, and so forth are strewn across the road as makeshift outposts. Bodies are lain in organized fashion – some with doctors at their sides, others grave diggers. Scattered vehicles burn weakly, while reinforcements flee our path.

Thankfully, not a one shoots at us. It would seem our wanted posters haven't been planted within this region yet.

"Lads, what could these soldiers be fighting?"

"Foolish question, dwarf. The answer is obvious as any jaded cliché. As always, the two factions that rule this world find pleasure in mounting all heads upon their pikes, even if it is their own." Wise words from Darion.

An explosion from the corner my eye draws me, but it nothing more than the last moments of a broken vehicle.

"Even here, lad, amongst Stonetalon Ridge? Blast it all, this useless war clouds all reason, lads!"

I make to speak, but a weak rumble echoes from above. Listening closely, I find that a mild beat drums, a dozen explosions. Hesitantly, I tilt my head towards the skies. Chilling to the bone, I let the sight of a near hundred dragons fill my soul with disbelief.

Winged reptiles of all sorts clash, their efforts unseen by the mortals below. Black beasts battle amber and ruby champions. Villains descend from the heavens, slamming upon forgotten mountain peaks. Heroes are broken, collapsing to unknown fates within unseen valleys.

A hidden war amidst a foul one…

"Turn back!" A voice calls from the side of the road, falling from the front and traveling to the rear. "There is a chokepoint ahead, you will never make it past the alliance lines!"

Uncontrollably I feel my lips part, "We will take our chances!"

Everyone else may have the attention span of children, or show it as so, but I do not forget what powers still chase us. And as stated, alliance warriors are easily the better solution.

_You said it! Young one, bash an elf or two if it keeps us from the Firelord's mitts!_

Whipping past us, the orc that screams becomes no more than an insect upon our path. Twisting forward, I follow our path once more, taking in the ever shrinking valley. Even the passes above close in on one another Just ahead are two stretched, almost touching stone structures.

A rumble shakes the cliffs, pockets of dust radiating. Another explosion, chunks of earth collapsing from the mountain sides. A third rumble, this time as if the very heavens are shattering…

"Oye, lad, that sounds menacing…"

As if one queue, an amber anomaly shoots across the opening above. Colliding into the right wall, the worn beast breaks massive boulders from the ochre barrier. Just barely does Nozdormu cling to the cliffs – pulling himself upwards hurriedly.

"Nozdromu, you are nothing!" A fireball whizzes and slams into the level yellow dragon, "Your sandy hide will gloss my armor when I am through with you!"

The opposite wall quakes and bows, Deathwing landing upon the edge, mere yards from the weary hero.

Flames gather at the edges of his famished lips, lava as his vile saliva, "Even your sands of time know they are lost in life's true meaning!"

A ball of fire forms in his maw, spilling as he speaks, "That even though time may be the ultimate consistency, it is in my fury where all the excitement brews!"

Flames gather.

"It is in my wake where all mortals dabble!"

A pit toils and tumbles, fires and flickers.

"It is in the grandest irony of all where true life blossoms!"

His strike ready, "Behold my reason, my purpose! Behold...DEATH!"

A gaping maw expands, readying to launch. Brimstone breaks from raging jaws. Death awaits Nozdormu.

"Korialstrasz, no!" Tranquil calls rain from an unseen Alex!

Her words are lost to Tok's dragon, its body slamming into Deathwing. Breaking his focus, the flaming ball is sent spiraling out of control. It slams into a raging concoction of broken stone and burning flares that rain for the nearby walls. The two interlock, ruby jaws latching upon blackened armor.

It is with these two beasts where my focus lies. It is with these two behemoths where my attention is directed. But, as we barrel onward, it is with my ignorance where the true threat looms…

And as we pass a small, churning fire, the great volcanic call booms.

"Bathe in endlessly fires, mortals!"

Bursting into view, the once calm fires become a towering inferno.

"Feel the wrath…" we draw perpendicular to the beast, "…of Sulfuron!"

Swinging the hammer of unjust flames, he lets the mace fall. Earth quakes and rocks shoot into the heavens. Debris ricochets across the metal. Gusts of burning winds slap my face.

His strike is short…

Shooting from the once tiny pit of fire, the Firelord recoils his weapon and redirects all efforts. As if a fiery tornado of damnation, he barrels after us, his chase at the fullest. Orcs flee in terror. Trees burst into flames. Narrow valley walls magnify the rolling flames.

"Be gone, you nuisance!" Deathwing roars, "Your part shall be little this time around, Korialstrasz!"

Peering upwards, I watch as the courageous Korialstrasz is sent tumbling from his once ravaging perch. He circles overhead, his target still upon the black dragon below. My sight, however, returns to our plight.

Pustules of pounding flames streak the skies. Dancing flames flick all edges, skewing reality itself. Heat blurs sight, dulls the mind, and drives the heart to racing. All while the roar of an unclassifiable vortex sets all the land it touches ablaze – its roar penetrating to the core.

"Faster, lad, faster!" A nervous dwarf squeaks to the driver below. "This is one angry ball of fire!"

Locking my feet with the base below, tilting the cannon between my eyes, and steadying my arm I set myself for the kill. Breath, Hope, breath. Relax.

_TITHBRURSH, TITHBRURSH, TITHBRURSH_

A trio of frozen rounds barrel in an arc towards our pursuer. One by one they whistle, collide, and burst into spheres of icy fury. He doesn't flinch, nor does he slow. Darion fires. Shots hit. There is nothing.

"Always seeking your recognition, Korialstrasz! Always hunting for your golden star!" I turn, embracing a panther slouching into attack position, its gazelle in sight, "And such glorious deeds must be rewarded!"

Brimming within his internal, fiery abyss, an orb of indescribably tenebrous flames seeps out from his mouth. Black trims lace this flame, an evil I have yet to witness. Our hero circles overhead, his every movement fixated upon Deathwing.

"Vengeance's fire, fool! Know in it your finale!"

Exploding from the terrible chasm of his sundered jaws rockets an orb of unparalleled evil. Edges smolder a magenta hue. Flares flicker as faded purple. A core, swirling as darkest night, devours all light, all hope upon it direct course.

Without missing a beat, our young beast lets fill his cavity with nature's flames. Waiting as a skilled fighter do, he holds the fury until the moment is upon him. Ejecting the projectile, he glides hastily from the two orbs' aligned destinations. They collide, the heavens turning to night for but a brief moment. Imploding, the dark matter drains like a black hole.

Pulsing, all reality fades as if dusk is upon us. Then, exploding like a faltering star, a ring of energies tears the air and sunders the skies. Catching the fleeing dragon, it sends him into weak stability. He holds momentarily, but the strike was sufficient. Falling, he fades from sight, his body broken by the shadows.

"Your lover, a satisfying kill!" Deep, thundering chuckles beat like exploding cannons, "Oh, it is only a stab at my sister's heart. But nonetheless filling."

His triumphant eyes sweep the heavens, searching for a being worthy of his strength.

"Baby sister, where must this seeker search to find its hider?" Arrogant words slip from his molten, fuming maw, "I only wish…to play…"

Once more he cackles, the skin upon his body oscillating as he continues to search.

"Hope, HOPE!" I turn, instantly drawn by the massive wall before us. He has gained much…

Instantly, I raise my cannon, taking perfect aim. He is massive, his girth overwhelming. Fireballs rain as counter fire, explosion riddling the terrain in efforts to terrorize. Trails of blackish-orange combustion cloud the air with burning rage. He is a Firelord alright.

Sight proper and true. He is a giant. He is enormous. But for a better target that makes…

_TITHBRURSH, TITHBRURSH, TITHBRURSH_

A trifecta of rounds glistens in the brightness of his fury. Aquamarine bullets bloom in the tidal waves of fiery fury. And they glow as diamonds as they slam one by one into his face.

Hollering, he slows the blows sufficient. Flickering flames signify a wound to more than his mere physical form. Alas, where I find victory, he finds his rage…his fury…

Fires intensify, as if staring at the sun. Waves waft upon warped winds. Heat hums as if an actuating engine. Roars shake the rocks around him, his hatred at full ferocity. Catapulting as if an ignited rocket engine, the monster barrels stronger, faster, and angrier than before.

Good job, Hope. You made him angry…

"Brother, search no more!" Sweet serenity calls, rage coating the once tranquil words. "I come to you!"

Sounds of shattering rocks fill the air. Collisions of metal upon stone send tremors across the valley walls. Another quake, this time more cracking boulders and rumbling slams. Pivoting, I throw my focus upon the sights ahead.

Bouncing from wall to wall is an interlocked pair of champions – one born of twilight, the other dawn's embraces. Mangled limbs flail, the bodies pressed firmly. Jaws gnaw and chomp, their target's close. Wings useless, freefall all the two shall know.

_CRARASH_

Shockwaves of visible dust and rolling tremors ripple across our very path, the two upon the valley floor. Rolling as furious brawlers, they try to gain the upper advantage, but the valley is barely wide enough for one. Fortunately, the glorious bejeweled Binder has found herself on top, her claws, her fangs, and her rage digging into the monster below.

Tails snap at the walls, spewing rocks in all directions. They are a short distance from us, but their strikes till deliver to his collateral damage.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Nathanos hollers from below, "Move or I swear I will ram you!"

And, for some reason only fitting of Marris…he begins to honk. Why did they add a horn?

"Lad, he is getting close!" Brann distracts me…

And fills me with revelations…

Ahead, a pair of dragons is rammed into the narrow chasm. They fight unknowingly, their hate all they dare foster. Behind us draws fire's lord. And in between glides the iron casing of fragility. In between rests the mortal shell. In between…is us…

We are trapped…

"Hope, stop starring, shoot something!" Darion screams, his anxiety apparent.

Turning, I rock ice's design in my hands. One, two, three shots fired, their uselessness evident in their melting prior to collision. The beast is burning fuel at limits unbelievable. Our efforts futile. The Firelord's fury unparalleled.

"Why aren't you playing now, brother?" Alex taunts booming, "Where is the competitor's spirit, Deathwing?"

There is a brief silence before demonic grunt fills the air, "If you wish, dare sister!"

Sounds of fighting limbs echo, followed by a gentle breeze and a rumbling quake. Turning briefly, I find Alex rolling upon her back, recoiling to her feet after a flip from her prior stance. Simulanteously, the black beast rebounds to his stance…

An explosion calls me rearward…

Adrenaline fills my arms, fingers dancing numbly upon curved triggers. Eyes narrow, meager mind gained. He is almost upon us…

"Ok, ladies and gentlemen, hold on tight!" Nathanos growls, "Gonna have to try something the Panderians thought me!"

This time it is Darion that loses focus, "You mean the Drunkard bears from the east?" Frustration filling his voice.

"The one and only!" Thudding stomps rain from ahead, a roaring engine from behind, "Now, its called Drifting. They did it when hunting big fish…

"Are you telling me you are going to perform a maneuver of a fishing boat?" Fury, and if I do believe fear, now his to embrace.

"If you do the math, than a bulky, heavy tank upon solid ground is exactly the same as a light boat on unsolid water!"

"Are you mad?"

Focus lost briefly, a fireball slams into the nearby walls. A volley of shots are fired from both cannons. Roars call from ahead, and I am forced to look. I do not know what the undead is trying, but there is no escape. Wait…no..to Deathwing's side. I must have missed it when they were fighting.

_You also couldn't see through the fat bodies. Young one, they are not fat…_

Just barely visible is an opening to our left side, a narrow pass. Alas, the only route is between the legs of Death, and I do know at this speed, we are not going to be able to make a stable turn…

"Marris!" I shout, "Are you planning on slowing, or are you going to drive straight through the dragon!"

"Drifting, Worm! I am be no fisherman, but I do know a wheel!"

Chatter briefly silenced, fireballs exploding and dragons roaring all we know.

"Lads, LADS!"

Once more, I regain my focus. Fear spreads across my flesh. Hairs are drawn to standing. Looming over us, a burning tidal wave of destruction is Ragnaros…he caught us at last.

Time slows. All reality shifts a frame at a time. Flames are but still snapshots. Arms brace an unfelt cannon. Eyes embrace an effigy of the end. The silhouette of damnation shrouding us in cooling shadows – the irony almost comical. Still moving, we and the Firelord's speed caught like a frozen humming bird's fluttering wings.

Above drifts the mighty mace, the hammer about to fall. Behind stands an interlocked pair of raging beasts, their concern naught. I make to holler, but the efforts are useless. I make to jump ship, but the speed would kill me for sure.

Trapped, I wait, letting the sudden screeching of brakes and quaking of my body to draw me back into proper time. Normality returning bit by bit, my shaking body is not born of fear but of a trembling craft. We begin to turn, the vehicle gliding unnaturally.

Holding the vehicle, and clutching Squeals, my focus fire falters, the forces of our movement overwhelming. In seconds, the side of the vehicle faces the prepped lord of fire. Muscles in my arm tense. Eyes attempt to close, but I force them open.

Rocks bounce across the metal ride's belly. Gears grind fiercely. Then, to my dismay, gas is applied to the vehicle, and the wheels shift as if turned. More jerking occurs before the cooling waves of shade waft over us. Horrifyingly, the heat of a dying star, radiating from thick, metallic armor bathes in reality…

We are below Deathwing…

Brann screams, his voice lost to the sheer moment. The vehicle shakes, continuing to spin as if a top, our front now facing Ragnaros. Inertia tugs at my body, our movement unnatural. Pockets of heat burn my skin, death's embrace. I can reach out and touch the beast, if not for the pressure upon me.

Then, in a terrible set of violent jerks, unsteady treads, and unbelievable skill, the vehicle bounces off the left leg of Deathwing, skids so that we align with the valley walls, and slams its side into cliff wall. Slowing, I turn, facing forward once more.

The engine sputters wearily. Lungs heave wildly. Adrenaline driving a heart to horrendous limits. We did it. He did it…

I cannot believe that worked. I cannot believe that worked!

Instantly, joy fades, the firelord collides into Deathwing. His speed remarkable, the dragon shifted as if nothing. Infuriated, he pushes from the dragon, his flames wrapping around the beast from momentum lost. And his eyes align upon his…all other reality lost…

"Wasps, flies, gnats!" The air itself ignites from his rage, "Wings needing clipped if to be swatted!"

Lifting his arm, he aims. Upright at last, he lets forth a volley of molten spheres. Wildly, I grab the cannon and fire, one or two spheres frozen midair. Alas, the strike slams into our craft, the smells of burning rubber cleansing my palette.

Then, drawing in air, he engulfs all nearby elements in conflagration. Then, rolling forward, he continues his chase…

"Reverse, reverse, REVERSE!" Brann screams.

Gears grind angrily, and the smoldering wheels begin to roll. Unbelievably, the craft rolls backwards fiercely. In seconds, we steamroll rearward - the firelord gaining equivocal haste. We bounce across rocky terrain, its concern naught. We slam against something, forcing me to violently oscillate in place.

I care not. Shoot him, just shoot!

Wildly, we glide backwards, but the rims cannot gather as much speed as prior. Shot after shot landing properly. Darion fires in unison, the sheer volley remarkable. Even the gentle plucks of a frozen arrows rains from an unseen woman.

"Left!" Sylvanas shouts! "Right!"

We jerk left then right. The firelord upon us. Heat upon my limbs. Sweat builds upon my brow. Icesickles melt. Keep shooting Hope! Keep Shooting!

"Lads, he is coming for the kill!" Mace in the air. "Do something!"

I redirect my aim. Coating his arm in ice, it does nothing to slow the rash rage. The hammer falls, his recklessness our savor. Earth slaps my face. Giant slabs of shattered soil jut and jab at our vehicle, but we are stable. Blisters bubble on my skin. I can almost touch the hammer as it lifts into the heavens once more…

Slowing, he readies another strike…

We swerve left…

_CRARASH_

A hut is vaporized to our right, unseen before. The firelord is hasty, his own mighty unable to maintain his precision. Of course, Nathanos' driving doesn't bode well from him either…

"Nathanos!" The lady hollers, "A tight pass coming up!" Her voice comes from within now.

Unlike the raging inferno before us...

"Die, mortals. DIE!"

A swift jerk right, we bounce through watery terrain, the waves cooling.

_SPLASH_

Waves roll over us, the pool sent airborne. More ground obliterated. Sounds of splintering wood fills the air as we drive over a bridge. Slowing again, the full fury of the Firelord felt…

And he…is…pissed…

"Right, lad, right!" We jerk to the left, "Your other right. Your other right!"

Swiftly, I fling against the side of the opening, my side screaming in pain. Bouncing against the walls, I move like a ragdoll. Screeching metal wails as stones drag across both its sides. We fit perfectly into a narrow pass, just barely able to squeeze in.

Ragnaros, however, barrels into the wall, his concern for the collision null. He watches intently, utter hatred washing over us. Piercing, hollowed pits burn my flesh. At first, I take his stillness as silent failure, but one must know the mind of a true villain…

He is plotting…

Lowering the weapon as we ascend a steep cliff, the distance between us growing, he begins to glow intensely. His core gleams brighter than ever before. His limbs quake. His entire form absorbing more oxygen than even he can dare maintain…

Too late…its hits me…

"By fire…" all shape lost to the beaming rays "…be PURGED!"

Exploding, the Firelord carries out one last act of vengeance. Filling the pass with raging fires, a tidal wave of molten damnation continues the pursuit.

"Left, left left!" Brann hollers as the waves close in. "Turn left, you daft, fleshless bastard!"

A fierce jerk, a painful bounce, and quick maneuvering, we round a bend and barrel onwards. Moving quickly, the walls break, our speed whatever we dare imagine. Sloshing against the bend, coiling, boiling, and toiling, the fires rage onward – the target still over our heads.

Faster and faster we move.

Closer and closer the wall draws.

Rims grind stone.

Fires melt rock.

Faster.

Closer.

Life.

Death.

And, as the tendrils of tenebrous design close in, their means our ends, all grows weightless. Tilting rearwards, I feel myself become light once more. Grabbing the gun, I keep myself still as we descend from the inferno's path. Washing over the edge, the wall of flames diminishes into nothingness…

But our fate sealed…as we tumble off the edge of a cliff...

Closing my eyes, I let the hands of wind's mercy caress my flesh. Embracing the breeze, I let it my soul be calmed. Enjoying the fall, I know that we will not limp from this height. We escaped one end to be our own…

Yet, as I wait for the sounds of exploding metal and the fierce jerks of death's hand, a call rolls across the air. A voice of an angel. A troll…angel…

"Got ya, mon!"

Metal screeches, claws sinking into its iron hide. Forces return, my body falling, and my face slamming into the butt of the gun. Glorious wafts of beaten wind roll across our craft as we lift from a gravitational finale.

"Troll, I love you!" Our loud dwarf emits one last line, "Oh, how I love you and Korialstrasz here…"

Rubbing my head, and glancing upwards, I fill my sight with the belly of a beast. Arms clasp the sides of a metallic craft, our end not today. I sigh, letting my body relax. Alas, the pain upon my skull is unrelenting, and drives a plethora of thoughts through my minds.

But it is one rather odd idea that catches my attention and ends the fury of webs in my mind.

As I rub my head, the pain unbearable, I cannot help but think…

Next time, we let Sylvanas drive…


	33. Chapter 30: The Final Telling

_**Hello,**_

_**I cut the super long chapter in two...**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**

* * *

**_

_"Sight! Ha! Everything about it is a lie. Close your eyes and listen. Hear that? Its all the truths you have been missing out on..."_

_Illidan, as he rambles over his newly created well._

* * *

"So much for…desolate, eh, Worm?" An undead man speaks to a rather dumbfounded individual. "Well, say for the smoldering wreckage you left a few miles back, it looks rather…crisp. Like a giant salad of which the delicious bacon that is myself finds itself."

I know that he rambling to me, but I am lost in more than simply my mind to focus upon him. Towering into the skies is a field of tantalizing trees. It almost doesn't seem real, the intermingling of teal, aquamarine, and pure jade that binds beautifully within this bocage.

A painting of moss covered trees. A tapestry of vine coated foliage. An illusion of reality rested upon a gorgeous sea of green. Light shines dimly yet profoundly through cracks in the canopy overhead like direct rays of holy proportions. Life gathers upon the epicenters of where the beams land, all aspects of nature feasting upon the energies.

All of it seems fake, a fallacy of a darker evil to behold. But as gentle greens, lovely leaves, and vicarious vines stroke against my shifting legs, the truth is beyond comprehension. Upon the lands told to me as "The Desolace" stands natural beauty matching that of the emerald dream.

Even tiny, fluttering insects buzz harmlessly across the bastion, the elements of grandeur growing. Even branches bouncing from gusting breezes entice emotions. Even the shadows seem sated upon these supple floors. So remarkable. So…breathtaking. So…perfect…

Say for the pounding in the distance. The same, rumbling racket that is known to all. The same ominous sounds of unpleasant circumstances. The same cries…

Of war…

"Come, champions, we have tarried for far too long." A swiftly gliding Blood Elf, Korialstrasz's mortal form, moves across the terrain as if built for it, "Certainly, even the battle stricken Aspects have delivered themselves upon the rendezvous point by now."

A dodge a branch and slip past hanging leaves the size of my head before replying, "So, you related to Tok?"

"Excuse me, Hope?" He motions to look behind, but the environment calls to your full attention. "My understanding is naught…"

Suddenly, he ceases all speech and falls into internal thought. Then, after a few good seconds, he chuckles and retorts, "No, young child, my intentions are not hidden amongst my own concoctions, but built upon my very feet. Keep to them as best suiting and your ponderings will be laid to rest."

"Um. Ok?"

Sylvanas mysteriously comes to my side, her eyes directed ahead, but her words directed for me, "Follow him, Goldfish. Follow him and you won't need to have mental arguments for a short period of time."

_You know that is impossible. Young one, her words are almost true if not for the bug! You are a bug! Young one, I will…_

No. Bad voices. No.

"Ha, my Queen, you think Worm can stop himself from fighting with himself? I'd pay to see that."

"_Your Queen_?" She sneers, "I do believe other words were spoken when fighting for the craft, _private._"

Nathanos rides to my other side, pitting me between the two, "You take that back, Sylvanas! I am a Colonel at worst! A Captain on off days!"

"You are whatever title I find worthy, maggot."

He gasps, "Maggot? How dare you compare me with Worm! I am twice as powerful and three times as handsome, and I lack a face!"

Tok sighs before the Lady can respond, "Really, mon? Can't ya two keep from shout'n at sumtin for at least a day?"

"A day?" Darion interjects this time, "Hellfire, I'd be content with an hour."

"Aye, lad. An hour would clear ol'Brann's mind here."

_CHIRP._ Squeals calls from my back, her thought the same as others. I think…

"Oh, have you all had your fill?" Nathanos speaks as he evades a tree, a shrub, a rock, and then a tall spot of grass, "I don't recall asking for your opinions, yet here we are, smothered in their undesired filth. I feel like I need a bath. A bath in the pristine falls of Mount Care."

Silence follows. Not a soul can reply to that oddity of words.

_You cannot believe he said that! Young one, slap him! You tell him!_

Sighing, I duck below another branch, and break the void, "Nathanos, sometimes, I wish the surgeon that did your face would have just taken the whole jaw off with the flesh."

Twisting, the rage of an undead commander collides against my mind. Even though his eyes can radiate a piercing gaze, it has gotten old. Well, almost old. It still kinda scares me.

_You are a wuss! Young one, shield your eyes!_

"Haha!" Tok cackles, and pulls something from his robes. A book. "Mon, dis group done have da best one-lineh's out dere!"

He scribbles into the pages before promptly slamming and returning it back into his sleeve. "Ah, ya guys be good!"

"Those aren't free, Tok!" Nathanos focuses upon the troll now, "Erase that or I will have to collect my pay with a kick to your face!"

Warming tingles dance across my flesh, light finding its way across me – or me finding my way across its bounty. I look up as the undead takes off after the Troll, his fast walk the truth behind his intent. I, however, wander into the beams from above.

Tiny, tantalizing, amber specs dance within the golden sheen. Wandering, white wonders sparkle with pristine perfection. These epitomes of snowflakes sprinkle downward, their beauty intensifying the already magnificent cascade of gold. And as I gaze into the ray, it is as if I am staring into a land beyond all those tangible to my design. Almost…as if I am staring into the Patheneon's glory itself…

"Alexistrasza! My love!" Breaking my thought is the cry of Korialstrasz, "Such worrying! Such misery! But with your sight I shall be strong still!"

Glancing downwards, I watch as the towering Elf leaps down a steep cliff, breaks upon moist soil, and dashes towards a small, yellow hut. Surrounding it is a small pasture of bright green grasses. Upon that is a pack of feverishly feasting Kodos – their oddly shaped frontal horn all that is visible of their downward tilted faces.

It is there, next to the tiny abode where a rather large woman is seated slumped against the walls. At her sides is a tall, teal man – a light purple angel at his arm. Without hesitating, I take after the Elf, lagging behind Marris, my Lady, and…well…everyone.

_You are slow to the punch! Young one, glide with feet of the deer!_

Catapulting forward, I jump down the steep slope, dodge giant, mossy rocks, bound as gracefully as any steer, and…catch an unseen snag with my foot. Flipping, I get a brief glimpse of the canopy above before tumbling on to my belly.

_You were almost amazing. Young one, that was more like a rolling rock._

Thank you, Tree. Spitting a pocket of grass from my mouth, I push upwards and embrace the tiny field before me. Pain trickles gently across my chest and stomach, but it is nothing to the open pasture and the gathering at the hut. I do not believe anyone saw that, so I should be ok…

"Speedy as a slug and as graceful as a dung-beetle." Nathanos' rotted, bone-exposed foot fills the span of my vision. "Congrats, Worm, you are getting better."

He grips my arms, and I am jerked forcefully upwards. Once at my feet, I pat myself off and sigh, "Better at what, Marris? At hiding my smooth actions or at moving up the bug hierarchy?"

Turning, he chuckles, "At failing, Worm. At failing."

I sigh again and take after the undead man. It takes us a few minutes to join the ever-talking pack. From this view, it is simply the ruby Elves that speak, and their words are their own. Korialstrasz holds the head of Alex, a set of deep gashes upon her face are covered in earthen bandages. These same covers spot various limbs of her body, and show the extent of the brawl.

It would seem that even immortal dragons can bleed…

"Where have you been, Troll?" Malfurion's sharp tongue snaps the air, "Get lost on the way, or were the neo spectacles beyond your comprehension?"

Tok angrily slams the butt of his staff into the dirt, and replies just as fiercely, "Hold ya tongue, Elf! I do not need ya condescending wisdom now, mon!"

Taking a deep breath, he calms himself before taking a brief glimpse at his surroundings, "Though, mon, I now understand why da Black Dragon done tink dis be where Therazane be hid'n."

Malfurion shifts forward, running his fingers through his rather messy hair. It still retains much of its original organization, but much seems lost. Maybe it is because of the stress? Or possibly…from his rage…

"Yes. The Cataclysm did a fine job at releasing the elements. And fortunately so. This spot has drawn a lot of attention from our adversaries."

He twists, his eyes at something beyond the tree line at the opposite end of the clearing, "As we speak an army of Twilight Cultists march, scorching all land in efforts to enrage Therazane into riling."

"Really, mon? Dat done explain da cries in da distant, but dey sound more like chimes of battle."

"I do not recall ever stating they march unopposed." He throws a rather cocky, pompous glimpse our way, "Earthen forces alongside being's of Druidic design hold strong ambush points and make known the Cultist's follies."

He frowns, "Oh, and as well as the humans you left behind in Ashenvale. Greymane and his Colonel? Yes, I do believe that is correct."

Wow, even Malfurion knows Kowl's rank better than Greymane…

"Mon, when were ya gonna tell Tok of dis?"

"About now seemed fitting." Large, leather-bound shoulders shrug, "Lost all time to explain due to unfortunate interruptions…

He pauses momentarily, a sudden stroke of thought striking him silent. Twisting, he peers upon the pair of interlocked Elves, their foreheads touching, their love at full bloom.

"Speaking of such, Life-Binder, were you able to draw any foolish words from your brother?"

The two lovers break, both sets of eyes upon the Night Elf. Sadly, the woman frowns and releases a disconcerting exhale, "Unfortunately not. It would seem Deathwing still desires to use his mouth for ripping my flesh instead of spewing overzealous plots."

Malfurion shakes his head, sorrow evident. However, as he makes to drown in despair, Alex smirks and continues, "Nozdormu, though, was always better at pricking the bloviate inside Deathwing. After delivering a few rather unnerving, flinching shots, Deathwing went to chase the ever speedy Nozdromu."

"And?" Impatiently he interjects…

"He yelled that he was going to plant his head outside the walls of his lair." She continues as if he never spoke, "It would do justice to actions past, and show the world the truth."

What?

Despite my confusion, Malfurion takes but a moment to develop a smile and to clap gleefully, "So simple! So obvious!"

Ok, it isn't that easy…

He throws his palm to his forward and smiles, "Grim Batol! Of course, how foolish could I be?"

I won't answer that…

"Deathwing's fortress is within Grim Batol! Ha!" Suddenly, his joy diminishes and he falls into thought, "But the last part, _show the world the truth_, what could that mean?"

He taps his chin for but a second before throwing his hand to the skies, "That must be where he is plotting the ascent of his master! In the sanctuary of darkness' past! Using some ancient evil within the fabled city, he must plan to free his master there!"

"Mon, don't ya tink dat ya be jumping ta conclusions?"

"Deathwing was never one for subtle truths and Grim Batol is a perfect location!" He narrows his brow, "But do regale us in your thoughts, Tok. Do you have any better ideas?"

Tok does not move an inch, his mouth sealed to the truth behind the Elf's words. Alex, however, calls from the sidelines.

"Malfurion, Tok makes a valid argument. If we presume that all efforts of the Shroud fall upon the halls of Grim Batol, then we may be setting ourselves up for failure." She notions towards the opposite side of the clearing, "Why would the Twilight be here if all motives rest within Deathwing's lair? A complete contradiction to your ideas…"

A large, tattooed mitt drags upon his aquamarine jaw, his ponderings grand. Glowing eyes sweep the floor, all possibilities compared and analyzed. Mangled hair mats to his brow, the riddles within tearing him deeply. Then, with a shift of orbs and a gleam in his eye, all his answers collide into one grand scheme…

"Then we shall use Rhonin and his champions for a grander purpose than to guard the sanctums of Deepholm." The elf speaks of something unknown to me, "Protectors? The very people that slew Yogg incarnate? Guards? The very heroes that shattered the Lich King's Throne itself?"

No one shattered the Lich King's throne…

_You need to listen! Young one, shush, the great Sleeper speaks!_

"No, great queen, Rhonin did not sweep Dalaran's decks, keenly coerce all the champions of Kalimdor, and engage the fury of all the Eastern Kingdom's elite to serve as mere protectors!"

What is he talking about?

_You got me. Young one, he speaks more!_

"He, the great Maverick himself, must have gathered dozens, no hundreds of Azeroth's heroes in a few fleeting hours! And we mustn't let them go to waste."

"Malfurion, calm…"

"No, Life Binder, I have remained calm for far too long." A rather disturbing sense of certainty and anger consumes his voice, "You have absolutely no idea what darkness lurks beneath this reality's tides."

A head tilts, fury bestowed.

"You have no comprehension of the iniquitous gatherings slithering within the pools behind your very eyelids!"

Lips quiver, his rational reasoning all but lost…

"I am the Protector of the Dream. I am its Keeper, and I shall deal with it accordingly!" He flinches as if pained, "The heroes called to Deepholm shall be used to strike at Grim Batol, while I personally watch Therazane."

Ok, well, I missed something. Again…

_You are not alone this time. Young one, I haven't a clue…_

Bah, what is he speaking of? What was he speaking of? AH!

"What is going on?" Uncontrollably, I begin to shout, drawing all eyes upon me, "I have had a really unpleasant last few days, you know, being chased by death itself and then having a tree stuffed into me, and I really just want to know what you are blabbing about Mister Furious!"

My words' echoes are all the reply to me. Slowly, awkwardly, even they fade into the horizon, fleeing from this scene. Don't freak now, Hope. Ignore the many eyes upon you. Ignore the roaring silence. Ignore…

"Ya, mon, care ta tell us wat be going on?"

Woah, what? Turning, I glance upon Tok, a troll with a look almost as puzzled as mine. Well, his is skillfully maintained. Mine, however, isn't…

Malfurion glares at me for a second longer before glancing at the troll. He makes to snap at Tok, but His soul calms, his companion's gentle concern forming as a palm against his arm. Glimpsing to her, his rage is quelled by her sheer looks. Such tranquility brought to a soul so savage by simple vision alone.

He peers forward, his fury contained, "As you few drew Deathwing from Ashenvale, I was tasked with setting the foundation to our next steps. And despite all our plotting and scheming, all actions were lacking but one element: troops."

Leaning to his side, he embraces his love, her essence fueling his focus,

"Given Rhonin and Jaina's combined magical possessions, we decided to have them traverse this very planet, collecting any soldier not consumed by the foolish feuding. Once they heard the call, they were to travel to the gapping chasm where Deathwing broke, the very scar our sanctuary."

Words flutter gracefully from his lips, a true leader born once again,

"Within Deepholm, the birthplace of the Cataclysm was where the heroes would hold strong, becoming an impenetrable force that could hold back Vengeance's fury until the elements that he freed could be gathered and the bounds resealed."

Uncontrollably, the rage within swells,

"But if Deathwing knows of another route to freedom, then it must be snuffed before it surfaces!" He can no longer contain it, "So it must be done! Those gathered to guard must be sent to strike!"

Breaking from his soulmate's clutches, he aligns his aggression fully,

"And only we can tell them of the plan! Only we can venture into Therazane's realm and alert the heroes of the task at hand. Only we…"

Pivoting, he breaks midsentence, his roaming thoughts overwhelming his person. His love, Tyrande was it, whispers to him, but his heart is clutched by something darker. Breaking from our pack, they slowly march towards the side of the pasture that he motioned to earlier.

Well, that was almost a complete story…

"Oye, lad, I think he left out the part where we swim the ocean and climb a few dozen mountains within hours to get to Deepholm." Brann tactfully adds his foresight. "Ol'Brann has done some daredevil stunts, but that is a wee bit nuts. And, coming from me, is some strong stuff."

"Ya, mon, even I am a few spirits short of a voodoo pile."

Yes…wait…what?

"Heroes, mind not Stormrage's words," Alex's soothing voice ripples as a melody of serenity, "Help me to my feet, my love."

I turn, watching Korialstrasz pulling the mighty Queen to her feet. She wobbles briefly, but her pride is grand.

"An evil has wounded his soul, and he fights the demons within the best he can. However, despite the weakness, his words tell only truths, and his plot is probably the most glorious of endeavors. Foolish, but if successful, might end this war before it rages…"

She coughs, her lavish lungs anguished, "And we put our faith in his wisdom in his reasoning long ago, and we must continue to do so now."

Glancing towards Malfurion, she consumes his person; searching his soul for the answers she so yearns for. Kind, gleaming, fiery orbs absorb all they can, but she will only find a skirmish to rival the events of late. They will…

"Well, that is nice and all, but, the dwarf made a great point. How do we plan to get to Therazane from here without a mage? " Wise old Nathanos at work, "I mean, you look capable of solo flight, but you and Keri here might be best suited to, you know, go and heal by yourselves. That and Worm is fat…FAT…and it will be a great burden to carry him."

Really? I am not fat. Actually, I don't recall eating anything for a few days now. Grand, now I am hungry. Do I have a sandwich…?

_You need to forget your belly! Young one, the story at hand!_

"Forgive me, heroes, I almost forgot." Alex replies, regaling us with her gorgeous call, "A short distance from here, just over a small peak, is a world tree. There, the forces of Earthen and Druid alike form upon the only remaining dry land of the flooded Feralas. There, the forces of our kin battle the invading Twilight. There, they maintain the gate into Therazane's Realm."

"Woah, Big A, that sounds a bit more important than Grim Batol. If they take that, than we got ourselves an ale drought of epic proportions! We…"

"Dwarf," she interrupts his interruption, "Calm yourself. What they may or may not know is that for one to enter the gate, they must get the approval of the one it is linked to. In other words, Therazane controls who enters and exits the portal. And if she finds a tainted force trying to invade her sanctum, then they will find no use of the gateway."

There is a brief moment for us to absorb the information given. Ok, Hope, let's try to piece this together. There is a world tree, with a big swirly thingy. It belongs to the element of earth, and if we are pure than we can use it. And, given my amazing purity, than once there, we will find an army that will leave…and go attack Grim Batol, and we will…protect the Earth Thing?

Ooooook. Well, that is clear now. Yup, like swimming in a murky lake. With a blindfold on. Clear as day.

_You must have faith. Young one, master of sarcasm!_

"Worm!" Blinking twice, I am drawn back to reality, "You planning on moving or am I carrying you by your ears?"

Twisting, anxiety sweeping my soul, I find a set of pale Elves, a man bracing his partner by her shoulder, marching away towards some unknown end. Continuing to pivot on my soles, I quickly discover the pack heading towards Malfurion and Tyrande, the two waiting at the tree line.

Great, what did I miss now? You know what? I don't care.

Jogging forward, I let my average sense of confusion briefly consume me before letting it wash away. I am not sure how badly I spaced off there, but clearly, it was long enough for a set plan to be actuated.

Fortunately, the crew isn't moving at any great pace, and I catch them in seconds. Sadly, I find myself entering mid-discussion.

"…and that is how I should have left him behind." Sylvanas suddenly glares at me. "To be eaten by the Naga."'

"You love me too much," and here I go, no actual thought behind the words to come, "and you would much rather eat me yourself than left another woman do it."

Silence. A sick, unnerving silence follows. Too much too soon?

"Lad," Brann blinks twice, bewildered, "I am going to pretend ye didn't say that."

Shaking his head, he wipes his and all our minds clean of what just happened, "Sorry ta leave ye back there, lad, but we decided to head out; however, ye apparently already found somewhere to go in yer head. So, we let ye roam, lad."

"Thank you, Brann. I appreciate it."

"Yes, Hope," Darion's firm words flow fiercely, "We gave you opportunity to catch our advances, but…now that all is situated," he twists, grabbing his gray blade by the mid-handle, "all haste to our ventures!"

By the wings of his unholy command, the Death Knight sprints full force. Grass is dug by his heels. Shrubs are smashed by his soles. Wind itself parts to his speed. And the hooves of the overzealous Nathanos and Sylvanas swiftly shuffle shortly behind. Looks like we have ourselves a race.

"Sorry, mon, but ya gonna be need'n a lift." Tok speaks down to Brann.

Sighing, he raises his arms as if readying himself, "Go for it, lad. I am used to it already…"

Gently, the Troll raises the Dwarf and puts him on his rather bulky back. Oddly, the man fits rather well. Once comfortable, he throws his arm upwards, lets his pointer fly and whistles.

"Mush, mighty steed! They are mocking us!"

Tok shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and slams his staff to the floor. Exploding, he shoots from the starting line with the fury of the elements. Dust clouds his vision, leaving me behind in it…

_CHIRP_

Right! Full speed ahead, little Squeals! And by her command, I release the new glorious energy through my muscles. Moving as I had done what feels like an eternity ago, I shoot after the pack vanishing into the trees. I move at speeds never thought possible. I move as if the ground itself fuels my soul. I move…as if one with all around me…

And, to my disbelief, I gain on those once thought untouchable. Lungs expand, collapse, expand, collapse. A heart drums a rhythmic beat. It seems almost perfect. I do not know where this is coming from, but I do not care…

I glide up a short slope, shoot past a set of shrubs, and fly into the dark cover of the grand canopy. Ahead, I see Tok, no more than a few strides away. Just barely in front of him, I can see the undead dodging plants. Finally, glowing like stars amongst the darkness, are the Night Elves…

"Keep moving!" Malfurion's voice wafts forcefully upon the winds, "Stop for nothing!"

Our silent pursuit the bonds to our unsaid agreement.

Growing darker, the lush cover seems to cluster, making movement difficult. Growing louder, the calls of battle seem to near. Explosions ripple, pockets of light breaking from overhead. Cries radiate from soldiers of the unseen war, a flood of light appearing just ahead. Roaring footsteps send shockwaves, the air itself throwing oscillating pockets of illumination across our pack.

And as we reach the wall of light, only blocked by the wall of lush foliage, the shouts of unknown figures ring…

"Fall back!" A desperate command chills the bone.

Bursting through the thick line of trees emerges dozens of figures. Many appear as hopping deer, but they are beyond that; their legs are shaped as so, but from the waist up are humanoid features. Their four, furry legs bounce in unison across the terrain – skillfully.

They bound towards us, their care for our presence minimal. As we near, I notice that the creatures seem to vary in features. Some, smooth, sleek, and graceful, seem as if born from the plants themselves. Others, hairy, unsightly, and well…ugly…are dark brown in color, and their flesh is gray as if deadened.

I dodge a branch and hop over a stone as I see a second set of small, tan figures emerge into the darkness. They are stout, and their joints appear as if fractured stone. Heavy, brown beards run from their chins and form beneath beady black eyes. Little, stone…dwarves…

"Run, run…" One screams while still amidst the light, outside the forest, "GOLIATH!"

A shadow sweeps over his person and as quickly as the shroud appears, a massive iron boot slams into the soil…the figure devoured…

Throwing my sight upwards, I catch sight of ominous flashes overhead. They appear as dark blue, and…

_BRURSH, BRURSH, BRURSH_

Branches snap. Entire trunks tatter and tear. Bright blue flames engulf the skies, feasting upon the once bleak beauty. Licking the air, the fires of blue and black streak downwards, vaporizing all in their path and colliding into those unfortunate.

Shielding my eyes, I avoid pockets of terrorized nature that rain upon us. Weak pricks prod all surfaces of my body and end swiftly. Looking back at the once glorious display, what remains is murky light. It breaks through the still lingering remains of a dozen trees, silhouetting a massive dark figure in its wake.

Directly in our route, towering over the trees is a monstrosity of death's nightmares - or, more precisely, my…nightmares. Awakening terrible memories from the Plaguelands, the being appears slowly and dramatically.

Sheets of hulking iron overlap to form sections for the arms and legs. Round spheres meld at the joints, intensifying its mechanical look. Sections of steel bulge and bend to form a humanoid torso. Just as I remember it. If not for intensely gleaming runes that no longer pulse. Now, they run jagged rivulets of constant iniquity towards a dark, shadowy semi-sphere that is its head.

A pair of large, fuming orbs vomits dark-purple plumes of smoke into the heavens. Pillars of black flames flicker upon the gentle breezes, highlighting the head and the two jutting anomalies upon its back. Rising from its shoulders, increasing its already monumental height, are a pair of thick, rusted pipes that pour a thick, dense smoke into the air.

The light still clouds its complete darkness, but it is evident that it is even more demonic than that of my first encounter. And from the horrific, metallic, deep screech that rolls from its vocal tubes, it is beyond comparison…

Like grinding gears, the voice that follows tests the ears, "Protocol: Annihilation initiated."

As we barrel headlong towards its base, a high-pitched wail erupts from its upper region, followed by what can only be described as a thousand lungs trying to draw in air. In a flash, a set of vents open at the lower portion of its head, sucking in vast pockets of light and debris. For seconds it does this, before promptly halting, leaving behind its true, tenebrous self to stand tall.

Its eyes light up…flicker…and fire…

_BRURSH, BRURSH, BRURSH_

Three sets of blue orbs, infused with swirling black, roll from its eyes. Slamming into the ground, they burst to our sides and rear, throwing the poor creatures in rag-doll fashion.

"Sweet mother of the Titans…" Brann gasps as we dart forward…his words all I know…

His words barely escape my mind before a deep thunder roars from ahead followed by Darion's cry…

"DUCK!"

Instinctively, I pull myself down. Winds thrash at my back. Little chirps and grunts signify Squeals displeasure. Trees snap, branches smacking my body. A force sweeps my person – its might almost enough to drag me with the wind alone. A massive, round block passes feet overhead…

_THUD_

A rumbling earthquake ripples from where the foot lands. Just barely had we dodged that. Just barely did we evade being smashed. Just barely…but as we rush from the forest, it is but the beginning…

"Do not falter!" Rows upon rows of robed figures march upon a firm incline, a mangled, scorched forest before them, "follow my lead! This battle is not ours!"

A dozen Goliaths plow straight into the thicket. Their steam pipes eject a thick cloud that blocks the glory from above. The trees slow their advances, but it is with the figures where the fate rests. Running circles at their feet, dodging explosions, four legged Huma-deers draw at nature's wrath to wrap their limbs in entangling roots. Unable to maintain balance, one in the distance stumbles, falling to the earth.

The shockwaves can be felt here…

Leaping from trees, as panthers from tall grass, a set of spinning rocks eject like wheels sent rolling down a hill. They slam to the right of us, three rocky wheels in formation. I cannot take my eyes off them – don't worry, I can still see Malfurion in the corner of my eye.

_You know we know that. Young one, who are you talking to?_

Continuing with my show, I follow their path, finding their target. A trio of black-robed beings stand around a set of runes lathered upon the ground. Dark magics swirl from the markings as the figures chant around it. They must be opening a portal…

One rock explodes, unfolding into a four-limbed, flying creature of unknown design. Smashing into one of the figures, it mangles it with ease while another fires a volley of stony splinters at the other two. Lastly, the final wheel slams through the runes, crushing their design with ease. Then, as quickly as they came, the elementals fade into the earth, vanishing from sight…

"King Greymane!" Malfurion shouts to a familiar, yet unseen figure, "What do you think you are doing?"

Instantly, I throw my sights forward. In seconds I find the foolish fighter I am looking for. He stands upon a small plateau of scarred terrain, full fur his cover. At his side is the unyielding Kowl, his sword and shield battering back armored shadow warriors.

Pivoting, dog ears perked to attention, he ceases mangling a robed figure to glance at the Night Elf rocketing behind his position.

"I told you to stay at the tree's edge!"

Shrugging he ignores Malfurion's calls and returns to his prey. He sunders the arm from is victim, slaps the poor man with it before using it as a projectile at an assaulting marauder.

"Greymane that is enough! Task completed!" Greymane comes to the limit of the back of my vision, "Move it!"

Without saying a word, he throws the body into the crowd. Lurching backwards, the King lets forth a mighty howl, its strength echoing across the vast field of ashen black and smoldering orange. Then, with a swift grasp, he flings Kowl upon his shoulder and takes to his feet at speeds incomparable.

Abandoning his post, he shoots across tree stumps, leaps over smashed boulders, and bounds for our gliding back.

"Into the hills, Champions!" Breaking from Greymane, I shift my vision to the sudden ascending path, "The final leg a short climb!"

We speed up the sharply sloping incline with ease. Second by second the path we lead begins to narrow, a steep cliff forming to our right and a mountain rising to our left. We can still fit a good four across, but with each fleeting moment, we are forced into a single line formation.

About a quarter of the way up the grassy path.

Rocks begin to slow our pack – their jagged designs knives to our feet. Two can fit across now. Not much of a dilemma with the route, our crew coming in packs of two. Screams dim from below, the cries of battle fading into nothingness. Just a simple ascent left. Just our pack and what lies ahead. Just…

"HOPE…BLACKWOOD!" Howling gears screech my name.

Before I can move, a violent hum is formed from inhaling vents. Static sparks sizzle as burning cannons. A bright blue hue lights me from behind, I am uncontrollably duck…

_BRURSH, BRURSH_

Rocks rocket as shattered shots. Blue flames roll and lick the path ahead, but I cannot stop. Their heat is null, a cold, chill burn suckling at my flesh. Turning, I let a towering behemoth fill the void. Smashing the path we follow, he chases persistently.

Shifting legs pound earthquakes. Rolling arms drive the engines within. Howling vents infuse the cannons. Piercing eyes vomit magenta and eject spheres of sinister concoction…

_You must stop it! Young one, knock those eyes out!_

Reaching to my back, I throw a glance forward to make sure my route is proper before throwing my spade to the rear. Holding it best as I can, I prep a strike. Aim. Steady. Keep your balance. The metal hums. The runes upon its surface glow. And…

"Child, no!" Malfurion leaps behind me, how I do not know. "Your assault will draw their attention!"

He stops, and I slow.

"Go, boy! I shall handle this beast!" Turning from me, he throws his focus upon the fierce goliath.

Unable to redirect my attention fully, I run with my shoulder leading, but my eyes facing rearwards. Standing before a metallic monster, a man draws an array of green energies into his palms. Rolling into a sphere with both hands, he makes a projectile as one would mold a snowball. He leans back, cocks his shoulder and hurls the gleaming aquamarine orb at the goliath.

It slams into his chest, doing nothing but drawing his glare. Thud. The beast marches to the half-way point of our peaked path. Thud. It draws heavy air into heaving vents. Thud. It readies it strike. Thud. Malfurion raises his hands to the skies, a set of swirling, spiraling magics forming a pillar of jade power around him.

_Thud_.

Damnation gleams as purple pearls.

_Thud_.

Salvation slithers and slides upon the arms of a druid.

_Thud_.

Cannons ready.

_Thud_.

Nature prepped.

Silence.

A pair of pulverizing orbs born of dark destruction flicker - their power naught. The ground around the monster's feet rumbles and quakes. Bursting from the soil and rock, thick roots half the girth of its metallic legs lash at its limbs. Sundering sheets of steel, and cracking bulges of iron, the monster is torn apart by nature's fury.

Screeching gears holler their last cry. Crackling metal moves its last free movement. Dimming runes fade into the nothingness that they are. And gravity pulls the giant to the ground, its body blocking the path and the roots covering its remains.

Turning, Malfurion returns to his sprint as if nothing had happened…

"Why aren't you running?" He yells as he passes me, "Use your head, child!"

Without hesitating, I return to the flight; however, I quickly find that even with my haphazard, half-hearted trot that we have neared the top of our trek. Malfurion lessens his leaping, coming to a halt upon the flat horizon of this ascension's end. Good, I hate running up hills…

_You are just out of shape. Young one, you can do it!_

And with a few heavy steps, a couple of deep pants, and a body full of relieved muscles, I come to the others. They stare down the slope, filling their sights with the valley below. Towering mountains rise into the heavens – a basket formed of nature's hand.

Moss coats the stony slopes, while trees and heavy grass grows upon the ground. A good distance to our right a chokepoint forms as a narrow path – the front entry to this bastion. The same four-legged deer and earth soldiers form a line near the entrance, at a river bank where diabolical crafts land for an invasion.

While many absorb this sight, Malfurion has his orbs upon something of grander significance. Shading much of the valley, a glorious tree sprouts as if trying to touch the sky's ceiling. A thick, glamorous top is molded perfectly from a thousand gorgeous branches. Hearty, dark-green leaves glimmer and shake to gentle breezes, while moss runs as rivulets down crannies formed from aged, bulging bark.

And its base, at the top of a stone staircase, is a giant, swirling portal formed by an iron halo.

"There!" Malfurion skids down the slope, "To the portal! To our salvation and our victory! Onward, heroes!"

Hope fills his lungs as he descends at rapid, reckless paces. Following, the rest of us do so out of sheer necessity if not anything else. Rocks jab at my feet while bouncing movements claw at my knees. It takes a few moments to make it to the flat, soft soil of the valley, but that is not a sign for rest.

At a near sprint, Malfurion takes off by himself, even his love unable to keep the pace. He waves to us, his overzealous soul at work.

"Come! Deepholm is a land of bleak, dire caves but upon Therazane's Meza, all is glorious!" He comes to the steps, waving to us still. "Glorious, green fields surround her rocky throne!"

We near the stone, but he is already scaling them…

"Butterflies tickle your skin while unseen rays of light bathe you in delight!" We reach a short level section before a shorter section of steps, "There, an army will greet as gleefully!"

Back to climbing. Bleh. Stairs…are…evil…

"We will be the Guardians of Therazane!" He comes to the top, the portal at his mercy, "We will be the Protectors of the Pure! We will be the end…of Vengeance!"

Finally, I scale the last step, panting heavily, and embrace the gleaming sight. Swirling like an oil painting, the green and black fuse and fold as if a draining pool. Tantalizing sparkles glisten from its surface – white beads amongst the dark colors.

Malfurion comes to its edge, his head resting a fraction of its height.

"My love, this is it!" He pulls her to him, kissing her fiercely, "Enluzen's end at hand!"

Grabbing her by her arm, he drags her towards the portal – his eyes upon her as if they are star-struck children in their first moment of true love. Yet…his joy is for something…greater…

"Green graces will bath your sight! Pure pastures will lead your way! All of it for your sensations!" The two slow, their hands moving together as if one, "Simply…walk through…"

For a brief moment, the two embrace each other as if they have just met. For a brief moment, they are the epitome of that is good. For a brief moment, they are all that exists. And moving together, they shoot into the swirling abyss. It flashes, consuming them wholly.

Coming to a crawl, I stare up at the gateway and sigh. Ok, Hope, just because you hate portals does not mean this will be that bad. Just look at it. Its pretty. Anything that is pretty cannot be bad, right?

Sylvanas appears in the corner of my eye, her gorgeous features embracing the portal. She wastes no time in walking straight into the pool, and it reacts exactly as it had with the two prior. Darion and Nathanos appear, with Greymane right behind. He is now a human again, and…Kowl is not in sight…

"I am not pleased about this, Marris." Darion frowns, "Never one for portal passage."

Nathanos snorts, "Please, you are a Death Knight. You like to smash a hole into your existence to go back to your precious keep all the time. It would just seem that the Lord of Terror is afraid…"

Darion sighs, "Yes, I am in a rather precarious position. Being a construct of death's design, there is not much humility and purity within these veins."

"You still have stuff in your veins, Knight?"

"To be honest, I don't…"

"Ah, shut up!" Greymane jabs his palms into their backs and begins marching forward, their feet unable to halt the advance, "Worst comes to worst, you die. A second time can't be as bad as the first."

"King!" Darion shouts, but it is too late. The mighty king throws the lot of them into the vortex, three more flashes to follow.

Tok shakes his head as he passes me. Giving me a pat on my back, he smirks before trotting calmly forward. His staff clanks with each other step taken. And, like those before him, he flashes into nothingness.

Ok, Hope, they left you alone again. No one to watch you. RUN AWAY! No, no. Don't run. This is it. You. By yourself. Eh, and the two souls within.

You need to shut up and run! Young one, pretend there is a Greymane behind you.

I take a step forward, but a call catches me from behind…

"Lad!" Brann shouts from the steps, "The boy here needs a wee bit of help!"

Twisting, I find that I am not alone. Sadly, what I see is a slumped Kowl, his wounds apparently great. I leap into action, coming to one shoulder and lifting carefully. Brann does what he can, and we get the soldier to his feet.

Coughing, he manages to shuffle his feet. His lungs sound as if made of sand. His skin is calmly and cold. Actually, it is almost freezing. I take a deep breath, but it becomes hard to breath. So cold. He must be cursed…or something…

"Oye, lad, how do ye keep fighting?" Brann speaks to Kowl. "I thought ye died!"

Kowl chuckles harshly, shifting his sword and shield together – making it a tad bit uncomfortable to hold him.

"I do it for my love, dwarf." He slams the metallic blade against the wooden shield, green flashes reflecting off the blade. "Lost so long ago…"

It is there, upon the face of his blocker, where the word L-I-L-L-Y is etched in thick letters. His love. I take another deep, frosty breath. A cloud forms before my lips, but all that matters is the portal. Step by step, my body grows numb. Step by step, my arms grow heavy. Step by step, we come to the base.

Forward, Hope! Forget the pain. The end is here!

Hesitantly, the three of us take a moment to absorb the view, gather our courage and march into the abyss. Slamming against me, the waves wash the chill from my bone. A tidal wave of green overwhelms all. Flashes of white mingle with teal. A furious force tugs at my limbs, while a gentle melody calms the soul.

It is just as Malfurion said. It is just…

Suddenly, a flash of black startles my thoughts. That was weird. Again, a deep, unnerving spark of darkness. That seems odd. Malfurion never mentioned that. Did he mean to? Another flash. What is going on? All joy fades. All hope diminishes. Anxiety clutches my soul. What is happening?

I no longer feel as if I am moving. All beauty vanishes. Only darkness remains. A horrific nerve is plucked within. All the pompous gloating. All the overzealous belief. It would seem that I am not as righteous as I thought. I must have been judged...

Unworthy...


	34. Chapter 31: We Were Once Heroes

**This is simply the splitting of the large chapter from prior. I was bored, and needed something to do. I tweaked a bit of the conversations, but nothing truly altering, but feel free to reread it if you want. XD**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_"I wish I knew more. I wish I wasn't so blind. I wish...and dream...to rid myself of my ignorance. To know...it all..."_

_Brann Bronzebeard whispered quietly as he ventured upon Tanaris' desert plains._

_

* * *

_

Kowl!

Where am I? No. This cannot be. This cannot be! Therazane must have judged. She must have seen my soul and found purity naught. She…condemned…me…

Brann!

There is nothing. There is absolutely nothing!

My lips part, fear all I know, "Kowl! Brann!"

Silence. Nothingness.

"Anyone! Can you hear me?"

Then, to my dismay, a voice beckons, "This way, Lad, and fear not. A simple trade was made. This way, lad."

I take a deep breath, warmth filling my soul. I blink once, twice, and then turn. It is then, as I stand here, that I see dim light flickering from ahead. Rubbing my eyes, I try to figure out what just happened, but an unyielding call grips my soul. With what sanity I still possess, I turn away from the light.

It is there, spinning as damnation itself that a solid black portal twists and bends ominously. White fuses with the darkness as if being devoured by the black hole. I should head into it. Run back the way I came…but it calls to me…

Turning, a breeze wafts and rolls as a set of alluring hands. Taking a step forward, I let my sole slap against the stone below. Another step, another dry, rather soft slap. My eyes feast upon the bleak blotch below, giving me sight. I am marching down a long, descending incline. To my sides stand tall and short, broken statues.

Dust gathers at their feet, if feet are theirs to own. Shattered rock litters the floor. And as I move downwards further, I can hear sounds of clinking metal – as if iron is striking stone. Slowly, steadily, I come to the source of the light.

From here, I notice that it is coming from an arched entrance. It must be coming from a room on the other side. Coming to the bottom of the ramp, I let the light wash over me. It is simply a large, rectangular box of a room. It is easily ten times my height, and equally as wide, but the size is not important. No, what inside the vast, nearly empty chamber is what matters.

I enter the large room, quickly noticing the rows upon rows of scaffolding upon the walls. Dozens of tiny figures, dwarves, drive picks into rock while others dust runes and sculptures upon the ceiling, walls, and floor.

Placed perfectly from each corner of the room are four pillars – they are aligned perpendicular to each to a form an unseen square. Upon each one is a dull white stone. Each chunk of rock has a cloudy, murky core that swirls as if yearning for something…

"Lad..." Brann's voice calls me to the center of the room. "A trade…was made…

"Brann?" I call his name, but it seems lost in the room. My eyes drift from him to the massive, trapezoid stone block before me.

It appears as if it is a base to some sort of statue, but there is no figure. A gold nameplate is mounted upon the face of the base that I can see, but Brann's kneeling figure blocks the writing. At that moment, I notice a gold figure upon the structure.

Dusty and dark, it almost hides in the weak light of the room. It isn't much, but I can make out what appears as the remains of a golden limb. A leg. It rises a short distance before it ends at a pointed break at the knee. And, at the ankle, is a chain that runs along the left side of the base and to the floor.

As if the statue is shackled…

My heart sinks as the chain glistens a faint green. Instantly, I redirect my focus my nervous attention upon the tiny man, a gold object gleaming in his hands. He raises it over his head as if presenting it to something unseen.

"Brann." Louder, yet still reeking of despair, "Brann, where are we?"

He glares into the small fragment. He stares…into what he showed me so long ago, upon the lands of Gilneas. I had forgotten he possessed it…

The Demon Soul…

"It called me, Lad." His words are desperate in design. "It called me here. And ol'Brann is always looking for an adventure…"

My heart races, "Brann, where are we?"

He does not move. "Always looking for an adventure…"

"Brann?"

His cheek appears, a lone eye landing upon me – complete sorrow for him to bear, "Uldum, lad."

Turning forward, he lifts the tiny gem high over his head, allowing a light to gleam from its surface. Flashing multiple times, the illumination from the fragment is overwhelming. Each pulse dulls the senses. Each pulse drives fear into the soul. Each pulse…draws the shadows to the center of the room.

And, as it stops, the dwarf recoils the object to his chest and whimpers, "Forgive me, lad."

A bulging pustule of pure iniquitous fashion forms upon the top of the base. Flickering shadows lash at the edges, slapping the sides as if hungering. Rising from the mound is rounded figure. It lifts into the skies as done many a time before. It rises into view, as demonic as prior. He…comes into full view, his hunched shoulders, glinting armor, and lashing cape a bounty of despair…

"Hello, pup."

Vile words spill as bile upon the air. His cape flickers and lashes out in all directions. Each tendril is as a flare of destruction, desiring a target to unleash its damnation. Each tendril terrifying, yet dwarfed by the words of my friend…

"Conrad, where is the master? Where is Enluzen?"

Master...

"Worry not, dwarf, you have served splendidly, and Vengeance will not leave you wanting." His piercing gaze lands upon me, "But you are of no more significance to me…"

"I have not done what I have done to be put down like some little dog!" His regret falters, "Where is Ol'Brann's key of justice?"

The Dark General stares at him momentarily, dismissing the dwarf's words with ease, "Not now, dwarf. Make yourself unknown."

"Like hell!" The Dwarf wags his finger at him, "Give me..."

"Brann…" I gasp, the sight unbelievable. "General, what did you do to him? What sinister magic did you curse him with?"

The dwarf stops instantly, pivoting to embrace me. He makes to speak, but his recent actions strike him silent.

The Dark General, however, chuckles a deep, pulsing, nightmarish laugh, "Curse? Ha! You naïve little gnat! Do you think I swayed him against his will?"

I hesitate, the answer I wish to hear uttered quietly, "Brann wouldn't…"

Light radiates across his armor unnaturally, revealing this infamous, iniquitous smirk, "Ignorance is bliss, boy."

He bounds from his pedestal, his heavy boots drawing dust into the air, "Do you truly think that I possess the power to alter your will? Do you truly believe that even if I did, that I would do so before I snuffed your life?"

The flames of his cape draw in, all focus upon himself, "The Old Gods delve in such despicable doings. Beings born of the Burning Legion bask in such loathsome acts! Even your…Lich King…forced slavery upon mortal's flesh!"

Closer he comes, each step drawing hungering tendrils of black to the toes, "And my Master wants his minions to serve him as equals. He wants you to worship him deservingly, without such malicious makings as the taint of the Dark Elders or the hatred of the Fallen King!"

Arms act out his words, all emotions stirred,

"It is how he taught me! Navigated my power into my army! The Twilight Army!" He gnarls a fist, his strength displayed, "And it is how the Four Twilight Troll Priests sacrificed their lives to draw attention to Hakkar! It is how the Twilight Cultists blantently conjured foolish magics that caught the eye of the heroe's of Azeroth to vanquish C'thun!"

Throwing an arm backwards, he motions towards the dwarves upon the walls and to myself.

"In the end, you will serve him. Willingly and knowingly!" A long, metallic digit lands upon Brann, "Just as the dwarf here did. Brann alarmed your mages of Ulduar. Alerted them to the prowling Yogg'saron! Killing the beast before he could surface, and showing Enluzen his minion's resolve!"

He chuckles menacingly.

"And you too revealed the tenacity of his creations. You unveiled the strength and character of a true champion! You, Hope Blackwood, gave rise to Enluzen's invasion of Therazane's Lair. And you did so as his…personal…vessel!"

Angrily, I shout, "I did no such thing! Vengeance did not and will not march into Deepholm! You lie to get me to lower my guard! He will strike and take my soul as you distract me!"

Leaning backwards, he lands a heavy mitt on his chest as he laughs wildly, "Foolish, little pup. You truly believed he wanted your body? Another prison to live out his wrath? Ha! My master told him his story, stirred your spirit, and used your glorious touch to receive his inevitable ends!"

Slumping forward once again, his dark expression follows his slow, maniacal march, "Don't despair, pup. We all played our part. The dwarf, you, me. I chased you across this planet, luring you to where you needed to go, and I did so rather splendidly."

A mangled fist flies upwards, dark clouds forming at his fingers.

"And as my Master begins his invasion of Deepholm, the final act at hand, I shall take my just rewards." Molding upon the air, formed from his shadows, a blade appears in his fist, "He wanted you to savor in his victory, but let's face it…"

The blade glistens like his armor…

"It doesn't matter if I kill you. You will still serve him in his Empire."

A heavy foot slams into the floor, his finale ready.

"And oh, how I have been yearning for this..."

As he nears, a sick, overwhelming feeling creeps across my flesh. It is not the death that comes, nor the blade that barks for my head. No, it is the thought that I somehow delivered the evil to the ends he wanted. It is the notion that I am the vessel he always wanted…but how?

"Hey! Conrad, ye brute, ye will not kill the lad before ye give me what I was promised!" Dwarf throws a rock the Dark General's head, clinking off harmlessly, "All the Knowledge of the World, remember, ye ninny?"

Furiously, the Dark General pivots, his cape readying to its feast.

"You will get nothing from me, you insolent whelp! Nothing say for the sweet glory of death!"

His cape flickers, but the dwarf is not afraid. Beady eyes no longer tell stories of sorrow and regret. A firm, quaking beard screams of a riled being within. And rage flutters from his quivering lips…

"I did so much for the master, Conrad, and asked for one simple reward." He tightens his fists, "To end the fear of ignorance! To beat the terror of my nightmares! And here we are. Nothing!"

Brann's burn against his eyes, tales of regret taking over, "I gave so much to see what I thought what I was missing – sacrifices for failed future ventures. Gave so much to see…"

Lips oscillate without speaking a word, tears forming at his eyes, "I was so afraid to admit that I didn't know it all that I lost sight of how to learn. So afraid, I took to a promise I knew was foolish…"

Shadows creep for him, his words the distraction to the death coming…

"I am Brann Bronzebeard, I fought for Vengeance to be rid of my greatest nightmare, yet…I find myself living it out fully." Teary eyes glisten, "I don't know anything…"

Sorrowed filled orbs drift upon mine, his distraught glare calling to my emotions, "What do I do, Hope? What do I do to stay as strong as ye? What do I do to keep from falling to darkness' sway?"

A circle forms around his base, the end upon him.

A tear forms at the corner of his eye, glinting brightly, "Tell me something, anything! I just want to know one truth, lad. Anything to write as my own. Ol'Brann…is an empty…book. No ink. No legend. Just…an empty…book…"

Tendrils coil behind him, their spears readying to savor his soul.

"Let me know this one thing, lad. Tell Brann...how to keep true...like…Hope Blackwood."

Quivering spikes line, ready, and prepare to kill the small, lost man. Terror weaves tales within his eyes. Hopelessness displayed for all to read. Regret coating the wrinkles of his face, the final expression that Saylem feared, yet knew too well. It is then, as he gazes upon me, dreaming of a simple dream, that a stream of profound thoughts fill my mind...

And for me, that is something worth sharing...

"Write your first chapter, Brann. Let it be of glory. Let it be of a Dwarf that lived in the shadow of story that wasn't his. Let it be a rebirth. And start it…with words…Brann Bronzebeard fought…"

His eyes widen. His mouth sunders. A hand raises and a pair of diamonds gleam at a dull fragment. The cape has its target where it wants it, but the figure has new found fury within his veins. He may or may not know the death waiting for him, but he does not care.

Eyes drift upwards, hatred locking with the Dark One, "Conrad, ye gave me this cursed fragment. And I am sick of it."

Twisting, he drags the fragment to the stance of a pitcher.

"Take it back!"

Hurling it, the dwarf lets it fly. A gentle glow glimmers from it surface. Then, as it tumbles end over it, it slams into one of the dull crystals, bursting into a glorious spark and vaporizing into a spectacle to behold. Alas, nothing happens...

The Dark General laughs, "Farewell, dwarf."

Dragging rearwards, the spines fulfill their first action. Quivering, they hunger. But there will be no meal for them. Exploding from the once dead crystals, a shockwave of glorious illumination expands from the stone. Its brightness is overwhelming and remarkable. Its grandeur fills all crannies, chasms, and cracks - no darkness spared.

"Life Crystals, you daft fool! I may be as naïve as a baby, but I traveled this world! And I can make them work!" Shielding my eyes, I turn to see the once faded rock burning like a sun, "Too bright for ye, huh?"

A second stone sparks into light, the once dark room filled with hope. A third. A fourth, all corners of the room a bastion of holiness.

"Come, boys, we have toiled in this room for far too long! Screw his bloody generator, let the world see the halls of Uldum! Let the generator that hides it burn no longer! Let the heroes come and rid the world of the horrible creatures spawned by Vengeance's nightmares!"

Just barely, I can see a pack of dwarves rubbing their eyes. Not to shield them from the light, but to remove the darkness that has haunted them. Leaping from the scaffolding, the men rush for the stumbling dumbstruck General, the light beyond his strength…

"Go, lad!" I glance at him, his outline burning as a beacon of righteousness, the shadows thrashing behind him blindly, "Run up the ramp, go to Deepholm!"

I hesitate, but then a compelling force drags at my feet and I find the lit room at my back. Cries of courageous figures call, while a General shouts incomprehensible jargon. Yet, through the chaos, I can hear the call of one man…

"Warn them of Vengeance's plot! Warn them of the evil beneath their noses!"

I traverse half the steep incline, the calls dulling. All but for a battling dwarf…

"Tell them, Lad! And while ye are regaling that story, do Ol'Brann a favor!" A gunshot ripples like thunder down the hall, "Tell them Ol'Brann was a fool! That his life was a lie!"

Almost to the swirling, glowing portal – the crystal's light burning holiness into its once tainted existence…

"Tell them Brann was no hero! Tell them…he spent a life telling the world he knew all life's secrets, but he knew nothing!"

Almost there, only steps remaining, the voice as strong as ever…

"Tell them…that in the end….he was a blank book! And that an inspiration wrote onto his pages his first moment of life! About how Brann Bronzebeard got his wish!"

I reach out, escape all I desire. And as I reach the abyss, his final words ring loudly…

"Tell them...that with a little bit of hope, he learned all he needed to know!"

A flash of green overwhelms my sight. Nausea assaults my stomach, but fades quickly. Another flash, a horrific force tugs me back to reality. Light washes over me, but it is not what I was expecting. Blinking, I see hanging rocks and rumbling earthquakes that greet me.

Sweeping the environment, I find a dreary passage before me. Jagged rocks jut all around. Dust wafts from them as tiny tremors quake the floor. Taking a step forward, I instantly am overwhelmed by the cries of what can only be a small army.

Marching forward, it takes a few seconds to escape the short passage, and what fills my vision draws a weak smile to face and pushes the terrible truth to the back of my mind. Before me, a vast field of green grass and tan boulders form a tranquil platform. Tiny, earthen creatures roam the pasture, taking comfort in the peace and safety of the land.

Continuing onward, I see a portion of this sanctuary lit by four towering pillars. Each one has a rock-laden base that rises to a bright white stone upon the very top - exactly like the ones from Uldum, but magnified four-fold.

Forming the greatest, grandest illumination, they signify their significance and importance. And they light up a pair of remarkable beings. Standing as tall as he can, a mere spec in the wake of the other, Malfurion throws his head backwards in efforts to speak to his friend.

Altering my sight, I take in what the great Night Elf so strains himself for. A pair of massive, wooden sandals rise to match the height of the Elf. Two long blocks are placed horizontally across the sole, adding a good ten feet the creature's already monumental height.

Connected to these awkward shoes are a multitude of cracked, interlocked gray boulders that round and bend to form stony feet. Jagged, misshapen rocks grow upwards as shins. Two large, much wider, splintered and crack boulders curve to form what can only be described as a pair of husky, earthen thighs.

Fading to a tannish color, these portions of the body grow to a giant hanging stone that connects to the lower portion of the torso – a belly? Rounding as a rather healthy bulge, the stomach curves up to a gigantic set of…well, runs to its chest that is hidden by a bra built of some unknown, dark-brown substance.

Rocks hang to the sides of the mid-section in the same fashion as the legs – multiple rock structures running as matching humanoid parts to make up its arms and hands. Rivulets of brown run as mud-filled cracks across numerous portions of her body, while deep crannies are stuffed with a dark green moss.

All features add color and character to said creature, but it is upon her shoulders where the most unique oddities lie. A large, curved chin is molded out of a giant, hearty rock and runs to a set of dark-gray, supple lips.

Thousands of vertical cracks form upon these said pucker pockets while a set of mighty fangs jut upwards from the lower jaw. Rather beautiful, blue eyes sparkle as if an entirely separate entity to the creature itself. Oddly, the mouth curls downwards as if the creature is over joyous - a snapshot of her greatest moment facing me.

Suddenly, the creature turns its head towards something to its right, I catch sight of a moving, quaking lips. This said face is the one directed towards Malfurion and it moves as if natural. Unlike the prior one. She throws a quick glimpse my direction, revealing a third, rather depressed appearing demeanor as the last face.

A thick, dirt-based pony-tail runs from the otherwise bald, jagged scalp of the creature that stands before the Night Elf.

The pair amongst the light: Malfurion and the Earthmother Therazane…

"The time is now, heroes!" The gleeful Malfurion screams to something at his right, and I am forced to look, "Go forth, and bring justice to the Dark Dragon!"

Filling the void is a squirming tidal of shifting figures. Dozens upon dozens, hundreds upon hundreds of warriors, soldiers, magi, and all qualifiers available gather multiple masses. One pocket of troops holds a great, red banner with a black "H" marked upon it while the other bears a blue background behind the gleaming gold of a proud line.

Horde and Alliance are both here…and they are not killing each other…

_You must get back to the task at hand! Young one, forget these details!_

My heart races and my thoughts collect. Yes, you two are right! Letting my legs lead me, I dash headlong for the crowd. At first, the figures appear as a giant blur, but they gain shape with each second passing. Orcs, trolls, humans, gnomes, creatures of all sorts standing by some type of glowing light.

Moving past a tiny bastion of mossy boulders, I get a glimpse of the illumination's source. A circular, flickering anomaly swirls and spirals like the portals of the world tree and Uldum. Blue waves ripple at the edges, will white sparks waft from all sides of the ellipse. And plastered in the center is a blurry image of some unknown fortress.

Grim Batol…

Rushing faster, I see another portal; this one of smoldering city upon the coast. My guess is that is Gilneas. Ok, maybe if I go there I will find Greymane. Maybe? Running into the pack, I quickly find the break in the two packs and a large opening for me to wander.

Looking through all the active, roaring soldiers, I try to find anyone I recognize. More and more unfamiliar faces sweep by. More and more desperation sweeps my flesh. More and more failure…

As I move, an odd sense of anxiety caresses my soul. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. A beat pounds Morse code beneath my ribs. It beats fiercely, telling of the situation's urgency. It rages wildly, alerting me of the horrors to come…

"Hope, mon!" Tok's familiar voice catches me from the side of the portal. He stands near a pair of magi that channel aquamarine magics into the portal's source, "Wat happen ta ya, bruddah?"

His voice is excited, yet focused. Throwing a nod to Rhonin, the red-haired maverick, he marches past the now organizing pack.

"Ya showed up just in time, mon. Dey be moving out."

I make to speak, but a low-pitched horn sounds. Coming from the orcish horde to my left, I watch as the soldiers are silenced instantly. Officers shout orders while troops form ranks. From my opposite side, the Alliance troops mimic almost in unison, except to the sound of a high-pitched battle-trumpet.

Then, as their leaders give their respectable stories and chant their words of triumph, the masses of heroes march onward, their destination at hand. It takes but a moment for the snake-like rows to slither in perfect harmony into the swirling vortex.

Row by row, they vanish into the distant horizon of some far lands. Rank by rank, they disappear to fight a battle we will never know. Unit by unit, they are absorbed to rage a war we will hear only tales of. Man by man, they come to the ends of their lines…and just as quickly as it began it ends…

Leaving behind a small pack of soldiers, a handful of mages and the voices I know so well…

"Lady!" Greymane shouts, "Remember that I may fight against your supposed faction, but that I shall always keep you in my heart."

Turning, I catch Greymane extending his reach to Sylvanas, the portal of Gilneas before him.

"That I fight the Horde so that I may one day have the pleasure of mounting Garrosh's head outside my keep, and to help you reclaim the Undercity as your home." She takes his hand reluctantly, "For in the end, we are the outcasts of this world, and more like brothers and sisters than we may wish we were."

Rather wise words for the brutish king…

He turns to Nathanos and nods, "It would be an honor to fight and die in battle against you, Commander."

Unlike the undead, he nods in confirmation, "And it will be my pleasure to kill you." That was like him…

Chuckling, Greymane turns towards the portal, marches forward, and vanishes. It is at that moment that I turn, searching the remaining troops. I see a rag-tag crew of unorganized troops. They seem to be waiting for something.

Sweeping the pack further, I find Darion standing near Sylvanas while she takes to Nathanos. Continuing, I see Kowl standing near one of the pillars, a short distance from the others. The sickly way he holds himself feels as if he can barely hold his sword and shield. He needs someone to help him…

_CHIRP_

Squeals! Spinning, I find Tok holding the tiny, wriggling warrior in his mitts. She vibrates as I give her a big smile, and lags to her own tail as I give her face a squeeze.

"Mon, we done found her wit da boy over dere." She nips at my fingers, "Witout ya or da dwarf."

I am drawn to his piercing gaze, "Wat happened, mon?"

Instantly, all joy, all happiness fades. A frown forms, and all truths are told by my looks alone. His eyes lock with mine. Riddle-breaking orbs decipher any encryptions I dare erect. Narrowed brows signify the displeasure of his revelations. A lone digit taps a long, mangled staff while the other bounces a baby in his paw…

"Mon…where be Brann?"

I inhale deeply…the true nature of why I am here returns…

"Conrad got him." I exhale heavily, "…the two went down fighting…"

"Mon…" concerned, inquisitive eyes sweep me. He knows something is amidst beyond the missing man.

And I cannot keep him wanting, "Tok…he is coming…"

Whispering, my words slip as charcoal from my lips. It takes him a moment to feast upon the words, and his eyes widen. Whipping back and forth, he searches the room for any anomalies, but finds nothing of concern.

He slaps a hand upon my shoulder and whispers, "Malfurion must be warned, mon. Stay here, Tok will tell him wat be happen'n."

Swiftly, the troll marches towards the two beings within the light. He glides past the unorganized troops and slips past the weak colonel. As Tok shifts past, Kowl drops his shield and sword, his heaving shoulders signifying his despair. I should…

"Hope Blackwood?" An unrecognizable voice comes from the troops nearby, "The Wanderer?"

Twisting, I see a man in soldier's armor, yet he bears no qualities of a warrior. He has the standard tools of any soldier, say for the shovel in his hands…

"It…it is an honor!" He reaches out with his free hand, "I have heard so much about you!"

He shifts to keep his gear properly positioned, an awkward hero at best, "I am Louis! I am from Gilneas, but…you don't care about that!"

I give him a weak shake, my discomfort evident.

"Wow! I thought you would be so much taller. Oh my!" He looks at the shovel on my back. "The runespade! Look at it, you can see all the battlescars! So…cool…."

Ok, I don't know who this guy is, but I really don't have time for this. I'll just let him down gently.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be rude, but my friend over there has been through a lot, and needs my help. Colonel Kowl, you know him? Yeah, but I need to leave..."

A blank expression sweeps his face. He blinks twice than smirks oddly, "Sorry, Wanderer, but you must be mistaken."

I cock an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"No offense, but you are incorrect. Kowl was never a colonel. He was a good soldier and loyal man, but Greymane never gave the rank he wanted. He only made it to Knight Captain." He shakes his head in despair, "Briston 'Knight Owl' Omel. Fought upon the high tides besides his best friend and the man he fancied his father."

Lips curl upon each other, a bobbing head recalling the story in its entirety, "Ha. Did you know how he got his nickname? Knight Owl merged together by good ol'Gin. Kowl, the drunkard's way of calling him. Well, was funny if you were there."

I do not know what story he is talking about, but he needs to stop, "I'm sorry, but does this have to do with him?"

The boy makes to speak, but the once unruly crowd marches towards the slowly fading portal to Grim Batol. Louis, yeah, that was it, gives the soldiers a nod and begins to walk with one shoulder leading as he talks to me.

"Well, his ship got into a battle with an entire fleet of Naga. They fought for hours, slaying dozens upon dozens of filthy sea serpents!"

His friends chuckle, shove each other, and then begin leaping through. Louis leads me to the edge and he glances at the vortex before sighing. He has no idea the importance of this tale...

"Long story short, they were just overwhelmed. Though four entire Naga crafts were abandoned, it just too much." He flinches at the portal. "I hate portals…"

Oddly, I feel compelled to hear the rest, "What happened?"

"The crew fought to the bitter end. Each and every one dead to the last man."

"That is impossible," a terrible pit growing in my stomach, "He is standing right there…"

The boy looks and then nods, "Does look like him, but that is just impossible. He died on that ship, along with his dearest friends. Besides Gin, of course."

Fear grips my soul, but it doesn't seem possible. "Are you sure he didn't make it back? Are you sure he didn't swim to shore?"

Louis leans towards the slowly fading portal, "I'm sorry, but I have to go." He sighs, "But since you are my idol and all, I have to tell you the answer…"

He sidesteps towards the abyss, my skin chilled to the bone, "You see, I want to be just like you, so…they were my first…"

Closer he comes to the vortex. All my hairs stand on their ends.

"Outside Gilneas, near the great Greymane Wall, is a graveyard. It is mine. And they were the first…"

A vision as clear as day appears. The Greymane wall. The field of stone slabs. More specifically three stones, a set of names as visible as if right before me…

And as he comes to the portal's edge he smirks. All signs of unknown circumstances built upon his lips. The words that radiate from his mouth strangulate my very soul...

"…I buried him there."

He vanishes, leaving behind his distraught hero...

Sickening tides wash in my stomach. The image burns my retinas. The trio of slabs telling the story of disbelief and despair. The world quakes. The sky oscillates.

But nothing moves. Nothing…but my shaking body…

Turning slowly, the horrible truth fills my mind - a thousand thoughts and a million images crisscrossing feverishly. The graveyard in full view. The three gravestones side..by...side...

All feels numb as I shift my vision...

Sylvanas and Nathanos background figures to the display of traumatizing miseries. Stunning spectacles of a Gilneas ship shout across my vision. Snapshots of Kowl, and his frosty, foreboding handshake. Then, inside the hull, the dark omens within my own sight.

And his story. The story he told me. And his confession…

He and Vengeance's paths parallel in time and space…

Turning still, I see tall pillar shadowed by the sheer sheen of its gem above. But it is lost to all the terrorizing thoughts strangling my mind. All is lost to the moment outside Therazane's portal. All is lost to the overwhelming chill I felt when I touched him...

Eyes lower, my hands vibrating violently. Palms turn to face me, all sensation lost. As I look down I see more than flesh and leather. I see the flashes of Uldum and the Dark General. I hear his words as if being spoken…

_You will serve him…_

Looking up, I see an armored man in the wake of the holy wall. He stands by a field of magnificent marvels that is magnified by the glistening glow of four heavenly fragments. The Pantheon created by the ultimate creators would speak of envy upon these plains…

Just as the General still speaks to me...

_You will serve him. Willingly…_

"Hope, do you know what your accusations can stir? Do you know its severity?" Malfurion marches menacingly my way, but he is nothing now. "It took me all efforts of druidic nature to get her to surface this day, to hear my thoughts! If you lying, it might take an eon to get her to trust us again!"

He speaks, but I cannot hear him. All I know is...I served him, just as the Dark General said I would…

"Hope, are you certain Vengeance has mounted on assault on this location? Are you certain he is coming?"

With my very hands, I carried him across the threshold...and he took my spot. Brann said it…a trade was made…

"Child, answer me!"

Weakly, feebly, I shake my head to Malfurion.

"There we have it!"

"Mon, can't ya see da boy be shak'n by da portal? Maybe he just saw sometin…"

They speak, but it doesn't matter. All hope, all joy. Gone. Lost to the ultimate truth. I am…Vengeance's vessel…

Sighing, Malfurion speaks comforted now, "See, Troll, if we jumped at every cry…"

Shaking, all thoughts, all reason has come to this. And now I stand, broken by my foolish actions. Here I stand, lost and bemused. Here I stand, lips quivering…soul tattered and torn. All I know is my idiocy and the end conclusion. I...am his vessel...

Quietly, I whimper...

"He is already here…"

"What?" Malfurion throws his gaze at me, dismay slathered across his face. "What did you say?"

"Mon," Tok fills parts of my vision, eying me intensely, "Where he be den, mon?"

Staring at the figure, I take in the darkened man – his tenebrous stature outstanding and unmistakable. Raising my hand, I let a lone finger direct the gaze of the others. And they glimpse at the holy beacon of beauty, at its only taint born as a single character…

On the outskirts of perfection, stands an armored man, his plate faintly shining, light trying to make its final stand. On the fringes of serenity's sanctum, stands a man, his entire form fading to in the dark. On the edges of eternity, stands a…man. The shadows crawling to his unheard call…

At his left rests a shield where a name is etched, but forgotten. At his right a sword is stuck vertically, a bright glint clearly illuminating the letters etched into its face. Kowl wasn't fighting for the woman's name on the shield…

My eyes navigate to the metal blade…

An elfish sword in the hands of a human. There is written his love's name…

Elune…


	35. Chapter 32: Light and Shadows

**Hello,**

**And here it is, the end at last! I shall not keep you waiting...**

**Go...and enjoy...**

* * *

_"Light: It can bear the darkest of iniquities, grow in the bleakest of shadows, and vanquish the grandest of nightmares. Light: Hold to it, and righteousness shall be your reward..."_

_Archbishop Benedictus to the armies preparing for battle with the Lich King._

* * *

A wall of incomprehensible intensity burns as if born of the purest of light. Glistening beads of weightlessness float in the thousands upon the air - sparkling like aerial diamonds.

Encompassed by its energy is a towering being crafted from the very rocks themselves. Guarded by the glorious glow is a towering Earthmother, her location not of coincidence.

The land around her rolls, the rocks rumbling rhythmically as they most likely have for eons. Patches of amber grass waves, wafting as they most likely have for centuries. It is her sanctuary. And as she stands amongst its glory, one almost feels safe and secure. And as she stands, her shadow forming a circle around her feet as if it is high-noon, one knows the true darkness behind all other circumstances…

"Boy, that is your friend." Malfurion draws me with wild, desperate hand gestures, "How can you make such accusations?"

His words radiate as insecure – his anxiety trying to cover what he can feel…

"Mon, I…can…see it….." A wise troll shifts to my side, his front facing Kowl, "Da shadows, mon! Look at dem shadows!"

A hand is ejected as a signal of direction, his sights upon the obvious. A lone digit wags at curling, curtailing cuffs of chaos. Each one flickers upon the horizon of light, their shapes dancing as shadow puppets. A figure's form is outlined by the glow, leaving behind only a darkened figure. A man…as dark as coal…

"That…that…is impossible." Limps arms reveal Malfurion's revelation, "Therazane would have seen him. She…would have stopped…him…"

A boulder of ice slams into the lower portions of my stomach. His words lack the knowledge I possess. Dry cracked lips part. My foolishness is as bitter as the bite of a desert,

"No. Not if he was led here…"

Turning very slowly, the dumbfounded Night Elf cannot take his eyes off the dark being, even as he dares try to look at me, "How? Who…?"

Once again, my parched, undeserving maw makes for motion, but they will know no efforts. For booming upon these holy grounds comes the tenebrous bark of Kowl…

"The answer is simple, Stormrage," silence is all that dares follow in the wake of his call, "And it is laid beneath your very nose..."

Twisting forward once more, the bewildered Night Elf emits a quiet line, "No..it cannot be true…"

"Oh, but the nightmare of your waking moments is upon you, sir." Earthen grounds quake to the beat of his tongue, "Just as you feared, the visions are now more than mere dreams."

Strength slowly seeps into Malfurion's words, "You are lying! By no means is this possible! It is another ploy! Another trick!"

"What stands before you now, Stormrage, is beheld by all blessed witness!" Boulders crack from the ceiling above, the boom of his cords overwhelming, "No longer solo visages, but a grand display for all! And all of you are to thank!"

The elf makes to speak, but a sundered maw is all that he can muster.

"Yes, it is quite true. All of you played a grand part." A dark head shifts to the right, but only the rear portion of his scalp visible, "Darion and Tok, summoned as the boy's protectors. You did a marvelous job keeping him safe from those dispatched for his head!"

Rock creatures crawl into the ground, their sense of safety all but present.

"Both of you even aided in the reforging of his soul! Splendid, indeed. Even the random, undead lackeys fueled the fire of the ride!""

Malicious makings mold within each word emitted and embed within every syllable dispensed. Shadows creep across the slowly evacuated floor…

"But in the end, it was you and my glorious vessel that expedited this moment." All shapes of darkness heed his call, "With his touch, I was marched by hand into this realm…"

Diabolical folds of black whip at his feet, snap at his limbs, and roll upon the holy air…

"And you sent those meant as guardians…to deal with events of later significance." Damnation at his very command. "So, I must thank you…Keeper…"

A deep, unyielding silence follows. Gentle breezes whistle tells of terror. Calm breezes scream stories of sinister dealings. Lights flicker, the raging storm of darkness blocking the pure view. All truths, all realities are born from this moment.

And from the sudden jerk, and uncontrolled outburst of the Night Elf, all horrors are made real, "Therazane…return to your hidden state!"

Shifting her gaze, the rather calm giant speaks with a raspy roar, "Keeper, what is this nonsense…"

"GO, NOW!" Cracking, unsound words oscillate fearfully. "The man before you….is VENGEANCE!"

Without a word, the world begins to quake, the Earthmother revealing her strength. Gleaming, blue orbs glisten as the purest of waters or brightest of clear days. They land upon the man, their view absorbing what was left ignorant.

Rumbling tremors roll across the tranquil plain like ripples upon a lake. Boulders buckle, bounce, and break to the wake of the Earthmother's movement. Jagged spikes shoot into the air, her feet shattering the very land she stands upon. Slowly, the world parts to allow for her descent – all terrain tattered and torn.

She makes to flee, but her own shadow stirs into a frenzy as she lowers…halting her promptly…

"Earthmother, what are you waiting for?" Malfurion's arm lifts slightly, defensive deeds employed.

Giant blue orbs sweep the base of her existence, while shaking fangs oscillate to a moving maw, "My child, I appear…to be stuck…"

As she gazes calmly at her own peril, a Night Elf throws his heads side to side. At the same time, the poundings of coming feet alert me of characters from behind. Alas, my eyes are locked upon the figure before me, locked upon the shadowy man…

"Worm, what is going on?" Nathanos emits a concerned twang, "Did you go and break something?"

Silence.

"Worm?"

A queen sneers, "Goldfish, get out of your head! Why is the elf so flinchy?"

I cannot speak.

But in my failure, a dismayed elf turns towards us, yet glares in the distance. Mangled bangs flop upon his face, while a few strands of structured state run down his shoulder…

"RHONIN!" Only desperation his tone, "Get me those warriors back!"

A distant call replies, "What? How do you exactly expect me…"

"Do it! Use one of your men!" He wags a wild finger at the mage unseen, "Open a portal, get me my soldiers back!"

"Malfurion…what arcane flux has sent you into this imbalanced rationale? We just sent them…"

"Stop arguing!" Malfurion turns forward once again, shifting uncontrollably, his concentration equal, "Druids, the time is now! To arms! Vengeance has broken our lines! Enluzen is here!"

Almost in unison, the two undead bark, "What?"

An uproar of cries rain from the maverick mage Rhonin, but his words are lost. Lost to the commotion at hand. Lost to the troll with his body prepped for battled. Lost to the Night elf yelling into the heavens, a dozen birds circling as commanded. Lost to the complete amazement of the moment…

And as I watch, it hits me…

All this time, all this while their plotting and planning has been for naught. Tok and Malfurion haven't been organizing endeavors to lead us to victory. They haven't been hiding unseen stratagems from our minds. They…have been trying to keep up with him…

They have always been trying to discover his intentions. They have been always been unaware of what to come unless he told them himself. They have always been hunting, searching for the answers to riddles. They have always been a step behind…

_You are probably right. Young one, if you knew the true darkness and true power behind this being. Young one, if you could, for a moment, behold what evil lies within his wake, you would know the terror of true despair._

But I don't. Only the whipping, numerous tenebrous tendrils mine to bear…

_You are looking at the ultimate darkness._

I cannot comprehend the evil; only able to bask in the thrashing, intensified black clouds that waft like a raging fire…

_Young one, you're in the presence…of a god…_

A god…

A sudden surge of strength flows through my veins. It is exactly as been done before. It is exactly as all the others! A god! He is a god!

"Tok!" I am no longer wraught by anguish by failure's gripping grasp, "Tok, he is a god!"

The troll turns, a cocked eye spells frustration and confusion. "He is a god, Tok! And he isn't free yet!"

It takes but a second for him to realize the meaning behind my words. "Malfurion, mon!" He screams to the wild Elf, "Get him now, mon! While he be weak!"

Malfurion turns, glares, and swiftly twists forward once more. Morphing before our very eyes, the bird's wings grow into heavy, skinny arms. Their legs mold into hearty, thick limbs. And their beaks fold into a standard nose of a Night elf.

"Together, my brothers!" Malfurion draws crawling, green energies into his palms, "Strike the beast while he prepares!"

The formed druids stand still, the command beyond their reckoning. Malfurion, however, heeds his own calling – an orb of wrathful fury building upon his hands.

"End this!" Flares drag from the gathering powers, "Send this beast back to his prison!"

His words are devoured by a sudden earthquake that rocks our very cores. It is fleeting, yet unmerciful to its blast. Rocks snap from the platform while dirt drizzles from the cave ceiling above. Instantly, our pack is sent to the defensive, and the once ready Malfurion has lost all he has procured.

And what remains is a malicious, air-cracking cackle…

"Prison…" sinister syllables slip as acid upon the air, "...a concept beyond mortality's defining…"

A head cocks to the side, half a blackened face presented. From here, an ominous smirk crawls up his cheek while a burning, magenta orb secretes indigo clouds upon the skies. Clouds spiral around his still stance, a vortex spinning faster and faster as he moves naught.

Swirling faster, the cloud climbs as a pillar of darkness. Intensified velocity draws all shadows into frenzy, a tornado building upwards. Then, in a horrific explosion, in a popping pustule of grotesque magnitudes, the pitch-black concoction consumes all the man. All that is left behind is an ever-growing, ever-heightening cloud…

Yet through the darkness, you can still see the single…glowing…orb…of his eye…

"A mere decade was the span of the Lich King's solitude. His self preservation…" higher and higher the cloud grows, "…and all he could concoct, all he could fathom was a wrathful revenge."

Reaching the height of the pillar, the shade flashes deep beneath its surface – bright purple sparks built as lightning.

"Ten…thousand…years…" exploding from the side, an elongated, thick tendril shoots to the left, "…and all Illidan could feast upon was the hallucinations of those who betrayed him…"

Another tendril, another arm emerges; this one slams into the pillar – the gnarled, smoking fingers digging into the stone. The beast braces himself on the life stone. His dark, booming call breaks upon the walls like thunder upon a hollowed hall. All we can do is stare…lost in the moment…

"Eons within earthen tombs, and the Dark Elders did but one task," the base of the vortex breaks in two. Legs of an infernal abomination, "they dreamt only of their greatest spawn!"

Folding clouds gather upon the shifting center – the dark torso of the beast. Two twisted, fuming arms oscillate at his sides while a pair of malformed legs holds all stable. Black flames ripple across the flesh of the giant – like black flares upon the sun's surface.

And upon it all, forming as a large eclipse upon his shoulders, is the epicenter of his rage. Lacking a maw, the sounds that burn us so churn from somewhere greater. Lacking a nose, it needs neither air nor oxygen to feed any absent fragile organs. All that is visible is a set of dark, purple pits. All that is visible is the faceless expression of evil, and the burning demonic eyes to match…

"The world bent to each one. Their threats grand by themselves." He stares upon his free hand, rolling each, sharpened claw-finger slowly, "Each one imprisoned. Each one…power fed while they dreamt…"

Stone snaps, rocks crumble, and the ground quakes. A light flickers and dulls as the pillar to his side begins to collapse– his might overwhelming.

"And if they haunted your nightmares…their confinement short…" A misshapen dark being stands as tall as the Earthmother, her struggle still at hand, "…just imagine the horrors that can be born from a man locked for all eternity…"

Snapping, the pillar is torn in two; the arm ripped from its support. Wobbling, he takes to his form with practice lacking. But what is emitted from his core, shouted from his soul, and hollered from his heart, draws complete silence, deafens all other noises, and lets the world know…

"But fear not, my children, for I have seen your dreams. I have heard your prayers. And I have felt your hope!" Catapulting a thick leg forward, he takes the first step towards destruction, "Close your eyes as your fantasies come true! Silence as your prayers are granted!"

_THUD. _ Black clouds burst from where the limb lands…

"And slumber as your hope is rewarded!"

_THUD. _ A second earthquake sends more waves of black waves. They form pockets in his wake…

"Your god has come at last! And with my blessing, with nightmarish vengeance itself, this last god shall give you answers so desired! "

Moving as a siege engine, acceleration gathering, the being lumbers across the once sacred plains. Falling from grace, the once bright gem shatters upon the ground – its fragments dulled by the clouds left in the monster's charge.

Each step shakes the world. Each step rattles the soul. And each step screams of what is to come…

"FOOLS!" Malfurion leaps in pursuit, his line of thought forsaken, "Stop him! While he is weak!"

Curling the jade energy into his palm, he drags it backwards and pitches it at the monstrosity. It travels upon the air, rolling end over end. It aims for his back, praying for a quick conclusion. It slams as directed, but no hope shall be rewarded…as promised…

Emerging from his back is a new set of horrifying purple orbs. A second head appears on his back along with a swift arm that forms from his spine. From this third arm a palm faces us, ripples, and let fly a sinister sphere.

Traveling twice as fast and three times as fierce, the counter-fire bursts upon the ground. Curling upwards, the dark mass forms an arch in the sky – a gateway of shadows. And bursting for its gleaming gullet is a large tree and a man with a famished cape as his own.

One has flesh that burns as if a lit charcoal. That same one is an infernal horror, ash wafting from his ever-scorched skin. The other hunches forward, the weight of his iniquity heavy. That same other lets his hungry article of clothing crawl over his shoulders, slither upon the floor, and snap at its meal.

As the two barrel forward, the second head and its addition molds back into the eternity, but not before emitting…

"Take what heads you so wish!" Vanishing, the body returns to normality. "They serve no purpose now!"

And the beast forgets his supposed children. The ones he spawned and those molded after him. Molded after the dark man, his humanoid form the sign what he used to be – of humility lost. The same dark man with his dark flesh, the rolling damnation the horror that he has become – it is what leads the charge and guides his purpose.

"Pup!" Despite his size, Vengeance fades to the new call, "Miss me?"

The Dark General's presence here signifies a mind-numbing mixture of an incoming battle and the possible loss of a friend…

"Commander Nathanos Blightcaller!" A heavy foot stirs our minds, "I believe we have not finished our little dispute!"

The Scorched Giant locks his ember eyes upon the undead to my side. And as the two generals march forward, their location alone an obstacle to our aid, a flood of marauders and twisted tainted sproutlings emerge from the portal.

"About time this gets interesting!" Nathanos leaps into view, bow at the ready, "How many can I kill before that lummox reaches me? Let's find out!"

A gentle melody of death is plucked from his bowstring. A sweet whistle rings upon the air as the soft screech of the missile's flight. Soldier after soldier is sent to swift fate. Twig after twig is snapped by the fury of the wooden shafts. Coupled with the addition of my Lady's wrath, the pack is thinned quickly.

But their numbers are great enough to stir a Death Knight into arms and a troll to his static surge…

"Break dem back, mon!" A three-headed prong of electrical wrath bounces across numerous foes, "Bring dis god to him knees!"

The battle has been set, and the sides have been drawn. But as we lock with these despicable monsters, the true target lumbers at full speed. Shrinking, the portal diminishes from sight, but not gone completely. And left in its wake is the Dark God himself…

Fists are slammed together. Arms lift the balled concoction as the initial weapon. And dropped with all power able, the hammer that is his limbs slams into Therazane's waiting form. Chunks of rock fall from her head and chest, but the blow is feeble…

Falling below his stomach, the first set of arms suddenly recoils into his body. Bursting from Enluzen's sides, a new pair of arms shifts exactly as the initial limbs. Rolling upon his shoulders, they ready to strike before she can dare recuperate. Fists together, shadowy hand-mace lifted over the head, another agonizing assault.

A third time repeated the monster's limbs reform upon his back as if he himself is a conveyor belt of terrible doings. The third set, however, swing back on each side. They curve as vices and snap as pincers. Suddenly, all arms disappear. A moment passes.

Bursting from the giant, the six aggressive appendages reappear in unison. Horrifically, he lets one fall, smashing her in the head. A second attacks from the left side - a chisel clanking against a boulder. A third and a fourth fall, each one bouncing against the earthen construct with all fury able. Then, once they have feasted fully, they coil rearwards.

Locking, the sextuplet of limbs forms two separate walls upon each side. Holding for a moment, Vengeance lets his power feed into each arm. Swiftly, he lets fly a set of three, the impact like sledge hammers upon stone. The other barrage shoots forward, the sinister coils sprung. Explosions burst from the heavens, matching that of cannons firing.

Stones rain from her body, the blows destructive from their evidence. Her head lowers, the last strike sapping her strength. Vengeance pulls his arms together, the trios folding into one arm per side, his triumph present.

However, as he rolls his shoulders in a victorious fashion, the Earthen shifts suddenly. Rolling her fist, she uses her lower stance to draw power into her hand. Palm to the sky, fingers coiled, weapon at the ready. Then, with all will able, she throws her arm in an uppercut style, crushing his jaw with her raw, stony knuckles.

Stumbling rearwards, the counterattack does its part. His face aligns with the ceiling momentarily, falling only to be greeted by an arching fist – the Earthmother's left hook. A heavy, dense thud ripples as the stone collides with the soft nothingness of his form.

Tripping over his own feet, Enluzen appears wounded by the deliverance. Alas, such a victory is overzealous in all facets, and he regains stability. Falling into the bastion of pure light, surrounded by the three pillars, Vengeance finds himself in the holy corner while Therazane is in the shadows.

Rays of radiant energies wash over his rolling flames, dwarfing them in righteousness. Demonic flares burst upon the holy walls, their grandeur diminished. It would seem that Vengeance is not as powerful as he so pompously declares…

_You mustn't underestimate him! Young one, keep your ground!_

Uncontrollably, I duck, grab my shovel and swing. Slowing, the blade makes contact with some unseen foe before continuing on its directed path. Falling fast, the felled fighter is a threat no more.

My diversion is brief, and my attention back where it should be. Monstrous earthquakes and trembling quakes signify the actions have continued. Once again, the two giants have locked in combat – their rocketing fists slamming chunks…

"Pup!" Eyes shoot downwards, "How can you ignore me so? Don't I mean anything to you?"

Moving in fast, yards away, a blade drawn General has his target in sights. But I have grown weary of his presence. I have grown sick of his constant battery. Lifting my spade, I let the tip align with his path. Focus, Hope, focus.

_You must keep him in check. Young one, blow his freaking head off!_

Jade energies crawl upon the metal faces, once invisible runes sparkling as emeralds. A gentle hum radiates from its surface, the powers gathering. Green flares flick the air, the powers ready…

**FLASH**

Bursting from the very point, a ball of swirling green wrath careens upon the heavens. In moments, it is upon the general, but he fades from sight – the light blinding to the eye and distracting to his exact location. Sadly, he continues onwards, his course only slightly shifted.

Focus. Hum. Glow….

**FLASH**

Again, and again he appears unphased. How is he? Of course! How foolish am I?

Try again Hope. Taking a step forward, I move towards the beast as the energies gather. Hum. Glow….

**FLASH**

This one aimed lower, almost at his feet. And this time he leaps, the foolishness his to bear this time. Focus. Hum. Glow…

**FLASH**

Directed at his gullet, he is unable to fold into the ground. Targeted at his stomach, he is incapable of descent. Locked at his body, he is unable to avoid.

_TITHBRURSH_

Rolling green waves burst from his midsection, catching and hurling him backwards. Limbs eject towards me as a body is dragged rearwards. He bounces once, twice, three times before skidding to a stop on his back.

He rolls, attempting to stand once more, but I have no mercy in me. Hum. Glow…

**FLASH. **Hum. **FLASH. FLASH**

Three rounds ripple as rude awakenings for our dear general. Three exploding eruptions form as the epitome to his demise. Three pockets of smoke plume as gentle pillars of collision. And as the clouds clear, he is nowhere in sight. His defeat uncertain and unimportant. Though…it did seem way too easy…

_You must take your win as such. Young one, back to the Earthmother!_

As if on cue, the dark, deafening drums that are the Dark God's dastardly vocals soften all roars of battle and cries of war, "Therazane, you will resist on longer!"

Shifting my eyes, I feel my muscles clench. A rapid tap raps upon my ribcage, a heart quick and anxious. Energy is ejected through the veins as if propelled by some unnatural force.

For what stands before me is heart-wrenching at best. Upon bent knee, the Earthmother is wrought by peril. A pair of pulverizing claws locks upon her head, while a trembling body quakes beneath. Two of three faces are devoured by his palms, while the last, the one that has variability, peers into the heart of darkness.

Enluzen towers over her, his face pressing down upon hers. It is tilted forward to show dominance. She is unable to look away, his malicious mitts clutching her mind. She is unable to break free, his power pressing her to the floor. All she can do is resist…the call of his blessing…

"Therazane, do not fight it." Utter rage builds upon the next words, "Her essence shall be mine!"

Shaking her, he dares rattle her stability with violent means. Shaking her, he attempts to annihilate any means of defiance. Shaking her, he enacts all unholy doings to break her soul. And by her quivering, oscillating form, it seems as if the ends shall be just to the actions…

"Druids!" Storming the field of tranquilty, somehow, some way, Malfurion has managed to break the lines - his birds circling overhead, "Our lives mean little to hers! Stop him at all costs!"

Desperation soaks his proud words. From here, he moves as if drawing upon instincts – his motions raw and sinister. His love tries to come to his side, but he pushes her away, what he fights far more important than that dearest to him…

Hair is matted upon his face; heavy sweat his signal of despair. No strands hang firmly and cleanly upon his shoulders. No fibers cling to his back or dance as if of gentle delight. He is a wild beast, his hair as untamed as his fury. As he hollers at the beast, his minions throwing roots at the monster, one can see a man different than the one she loves…

He is…consumed by hatred…

Druids dash beneath his feet, attempting to distract the being above. Thick roots lock upon fuming legs, locking and dragging at his strength. But he pays no heed. They will do nothing. They can only do nothing…

And as I watch, his very hands snuffing the life from her once grand face, a feeling I thought I had lost back on the banks of Ashenvale returns. My arms go limp, and my chest numbs. My jaw sunders, but there are no words to display that which burdens me so…

Eyes shift from the beast, the battle below lost in my ignorance. A death knight stands before an army, his blade feasting, but the enemy unyielding. A pair of undead champions runs from a chasing giant, their arrows naught against his hardened hide. Lightning flashes in magnificent barrages, felling foes with ease, but he will not shatter their lines.

Even the fireballs of a returned maverick, Rhonin as his grandest, fly as he and he alone holds Darion's rear flank. Blood runs down his left eye, a strike too close for comfort. And as I watch, my spade doing nothing, all friends fighting feverishly, I know that even if we kill them all, that we will not break them...

I lift my shovel to strike…

Their lines are meant as delay, and delay they shall. Sweeping again, the champions of my tale are far from winded, but further from victory. Each one halted by a multitude of maniacal minions. Each one stopped by their loyal might…

I must shoot, but their numbers are too vast. I can fire all day, but they will continue to spawn – the Lich King knowing nothing of this magnitude. Making back to Rhonin, I watch as he turns, his eyes upon a new sight, but not of our enemy.

He shouts the words _'SHOOT SOMETHING_' silently; only evidence to his fury the limits of his jaw's span. A barrage of magics tears upon the airs, reinforcements at last. But as they appear, a handful of mages, I know this will do nothing but relieve the Death Knight's Tension. Allow from him to carve a useless path of destruction.

There is no way around them. No way through them…even if he kills them all…

"Mon…"

No way…around...

"Mon!" My eyes drift, despair caked upon their glistening surfaces, "Mon, ya need to get to da beast! Ya need to stop him!"

Oscillating eyes shift in their sockets, his notion unbelievable…

"How can I, Tok? How can I get to him?"

Throwing a quick jolt of static juice, he halts a pack and redirects towards me. Fierce, yet calm eyes call to my soul. Tusks jut behind quivering lips, his heavy panting hidden beneath his pride. And wise words waft from his mouth…

"Close ya eyes, mon. Do wat ya wanted ta do for so long." Each word soft and true, "Sleep, mon. Sleep."

Sleep? What…

_You must relax. Young one, close your eyes._

But if I take my sight from the battle…

_You are doing nothing. You know they have your back. Young one, close your eyes._

One last sweep. One last glance at them all. Hesitantly, heavy lids slide over pressed orbs. Close them, Hope. Do it. There you go, let the darkness fill your void. Let the shadows strangle your sanity…let…

_You idiot, relax! Young one, think of nothing. Young one, do what you do best?_

Of nothing? Yes, think of home, Hope. Think of that rock you lived under for years. Think of how peaceful it was, despite the fact you shared it with maggots and things that bit you. Painfully.

The muscles on my chest tighten…

Relive your moments of the Plaguelands, of how you lived under constant harassment from the hermit on the hill. From the angry supposed Commander Marris. Not that is any different from now…

Hard to breathe…

If I could hit him with my shovel right now, I would be a happier man…

Even in the darkness, I can feel the edges of my reality ripple – like a stirred black pool of pure darkness. Silence rolls over me. A gentle breeze and sweet serenity. Say for the roaring fire that burns nearby.

_You can open your eyes now. Young one…_

Seals sunder, revealing a jade empire of my own. Pure and glorious, the great plains are a sweet, dark-emerald hue. Unlike that of prior events, there is no gray taint. No horrible skewed scheme. Except for the dark glow that burns a short distance away.

Slowly, carefully, I march forward – crunching grass my only company. Second by second, the glow gains form, the flames burning my very soul. Second by second, the unformed figure gains focus.

Standing alone, his actions equal to that of the other reality, is the man of pitch-black fire. However, he is not towering. He is not a giant of unmatched proportions. He is simply the being that has haunted my every waking moment. He is simply a man…

And I have dealt with his human form before…

Swiftly, I grab my shovel. Quickly, I take to my feet as silently as one can. Crisp grass crinkles, yet makes no alarms. Gentle soles slap moist terrain, yet trigger no alerts. Closer he draws, his eyes diverted downward.

Shovel lifted to the ready…

Almost upon him, his wrath waiting…

Arms back, praying that he does not sway

Surprise the element I need…

A man of pitch-black is feet away, and he is oblivious to my assault…

Spade back, ready. Let him have it! Blade forward!

_CLINK_

A head falls forward while a wooden handle oscillates violently in my hands. Gentle hums roll from the quaking metal. Enrage groans are grunted by a furious monster. I still have no mercy in me.

Spade over my head. Locked. Ready. Let him have it!

"You IDIOT!" A rage matched by none other; except for the fury that comes after I hit him again…

_CLINK_

As he pivots, the spade lands upon his faceless front. Orbs vanish beneath dusty iron. All fury lost to the contact. A form shakes and stumbles rearwards, the so called god caught off…

"Child, what are you doing?" Death delves within every word dispensed, "You will ruin everything!"

I flinch to the rage that follows…

Lurching forward, his dismay is overwhelmed only by the sheer fury that the roaring flames spew from his body. Burning orbs seer my flesh with their glance, while flickering flames singe the hairs with their touch…

Their touch…

It is then, as he bounds for me, all elements of destruction bestowed as only a god can, that I know what must be done. He yearns for my demise. He hungers for my end. But he will get nothing…

Fiery firsts are fueled by his internal iniquity. Thrashing, slashing, gnashing, and crashing, his flames churn as if born of a sun's burn. Magenta eyes glisten as unholy diamonds, their presence gleaming like this glorious field once had. Fists coil into spines of sinister intentions, all ends upon their raging tips.

He will spare me not, but I am the one with the power to care. Every step thrown, the world quakes, but it is in my silent trot where the true strength lies. Roaring flames call for my scorched flesh, but it is in my voice where the commands rest. Spiny claws whip rearward, his onslaught the only one he knows. It would seem he has forgotten…

Let me enlighten him of how he got here…

This death dives. My holy hands fly. It is in this moment where he comes to end my foolish road, but it is where I come to change the course I have ridden. Slipping fast, I dodge his devastation. Whipping with all haste, he hungers for the hue of ruby blood.

But no fresh wounds seep this day. No slashed skin. No gushing red geysers. Only the frost of a touch I know all too well. Only the chilled clutch of gnarled fingers. Slapping the sides of his flaming flesh, I grab his head as he had Therazane – palms to the temples, fingers digging dangerously.

Air is sucked from my lungs. Muscles lock, their strength distraught by the icy onslaught. Hold strong, Hope! Legs quiver while a body oscillates in despair. Do not let it consume like before! You are whole now. Let him know why he picked you!

But it is so cold…

Whistling pipes draw in narrow pockets of air – like a straw upon an empty cup. I feel his hands lock upon mine. Black flames creep up my arms, their diabolical design devouring my arms. Dark fires feast upon my elbows, his tenebrous state overwhelming me…making me weak…

So weak…

No, Hope, there is no time to falter! Remember those fighting around you! Recall their willpower and the ravaging rage of the foes they face! They stand strong! They stand as Tok commanded you so long ago! You are Hope Blackwood! And you will know no failure this day!

I must be strong!

Dark images flash across my mind; my mother, my evil father, all the events that have haunted me so. Forget them. They are the past. Hold strong. Think of what drives you! Ignore his attempts. Think of what fuels your soul. Think…of Nathanos! Of Darion! Of Tok and all those who stood beside you.

So cold. So weak. Hold strong! So…cold…

Think…of those remarkable rubies. Of…your lady…

Suddenly, the flames recoil. Unbelievably, the fires flicker back to his skull and fold from his flesh. It is at this very second, where, for only a fleeting second, the black inferno is extinguished. Pale flesh is exposed and a pair of simply stunning, green eyes beam where indigo once lay…

It is…him…

"Elune…" he whimpers softly, "…my lady. My…love…"

Eyes shift in their sockets, their essence searching my soul. Orbs oscillate side to side, hunting for a past lost so long ago. He feasts upon what has driven him for all eternity. He devours the pages of a tale told upon a gentle breeze. And he relives…his past…

Unexpectedly, his brows lower and hatred returns. A shockwave hits my chest, and I find myself floating. Briefly, all is calm, all burdens lifted. Alas, just as shortly, I return to reality, slamming into the dirt. I blink, and curl forward, the being thrashing wildly.

Hands upon his face, his voice piercing, "Forgive me, my love! I have failed you!"

Throwing his body in all directions, he anguishes, "I will always protect you! I will avenge you!"

Where he has thrown all those he faced, he now embraces himself, "Elune, I love you!"

He lives…in his own nightmare…

The edges of my reality ripple. A god howls. Hard to breath. A man cries. I blink. A human weeps. Opening once again, the jade has faded. A stony roof lies over me, and the cries of battle barrage my being.

"Drag him back into his empire!" Malfurion shouts his enraged commands, "Wrap him so tightly he will dream of breathing!"

Swiftly, I roll forward, jump to my feet, and let the world welcome me. Hundreds of sinister soldiers are routed by the fury of our might. Darion drives fear into their soul. Nathanos ravages their numbers. Tok sparks their flight and a Queen…crushes their courage…

A path lies before me, the enemy's once superiority broken. A tree is battered by chilled arrows, his strength sapped - his presence impossible to halt my haste. Dashing forward, I sprint across the field, the tide of shadows parted.

Rushing onto the bastion of beauty, I let the glory fill my soul. Standing tall, an Earthmother is battered and beaten, but not broken. News chasms run as scars across stone. Neo nicks fill with holy lights, gleaming as darkness overcome.

Standing tall, she looms over the beast born of black fires. Massive interlocked roots cling across his once raging flames. Upon bent knee, he struggles against the druidic confines. But what drove him now leaves him wanting.

One arm is dragged to the ground, the claws bracing the entanglement. The other grasps the gripping earthen chains. Flames no longer flicker as astral flares. Fires no longer burn as demonic infernos. His might is quelled. His power is pulverized…

Like the gods before him, he stood strong at the moment of his ascension, but he faltered to this planet's heroes. A shoulder slants towards the ground, another batch of brambles buckling his will. Desperation coats his efforts, but those in control care not.

"This was your grand plan, Enluzen?" Malfurion roars pompously, "I bet the conclusions were far different than now."

Vengeance thrashes, but the roots have him firmly. Lowering, he is dragged into the planet.

"Yours minions triumphant!"

Druids circle his base, channeling heavier straps that snap at his free shoulder.

"Your efforts naught!"

With what little energy remains, he throws a limb to the wind. A lone arm of Vengeance's craft is stretched to the world. He reaches towards Therazane, but aims for the heavens. Dulled purple spheres eject dark flames, but call of a lost innocence. Their target beyond our imaginations yet drilled into our minds…

"Elune!" Sorrow grasps his tone, "ELUNE!"

As his dark, malicious voice rolls across the halls, the merciless might of Malfurion drags down on the beast. Buckling, the monster is brought to both his knees – his palms plastered upon the floor. A holy light radiates over his flesh, the three pillars illuminating his lingering fires. They test his remaining fight, but destroy it wholly.

He is no longer the entity that he once convinced himself he was. He is no longer the ruler of the shadows. He is no longer a god. He is just a man, power pulsing through his veins. He is…just a man…

And as the roots draw him to his final showing, he shouts, his words echoing across the skies, shaking the stone walls themselves, "My love!"

With those words, an overwhelming silence sweeps the lands. The epicenter of the scene, a black being wrought to writhing rights, is brought humility. He is the heart of the show, his dark flesh reflecting all light able. All eyes upon him, he is far from the shadows that linger to my side – that darkness that coats the Earthmother unseen.

For a moment, his unheard cries crack all hatred. One can almost taste a bit of pity. As the gleaming sparks rain as diamonds, their purity intensifying his end, one can almost see him for what he is. For a moment…one can almost…

As I watch him, the silence thickens. As I watch him, my stomach oddly twists. As I watch him, my heart pounds and my blood flows. What in the world? A rolling earthquake breaks my trance, and drives me to reality.

"I will protect you!" The roar of the man intensified of late, "And my prison will bind me no more!"

His strength is regained, while rolling ripples rock our reality.

What is happening?

Grass waves as a moving miniature army. Rocks rumble while boulders vibrate ominously. Fields of light flicker eerily; giant, glowing stones alerting us of something greater. My eyes drift down across a defeated god and align upon a shifting shadow.

The shaking shadow…of an Earthmother…and her shroud moves oddly.

A whispering wind carries the weak words of an almost forgotten Therazane, "Mortals…"

Breaking from his spectacle, I let my eyes fall upon her graces. My legs grow weak. Morphine pulses through my veins. A sunder maw can do nothing but gawk. The sight before me is soul shattering. A scene of daunting disbelief.

An Earthmother bares a pair of mighty, wooden sandals. Molded, round rocks form sleek shins and gather as thick thighs. Crannies run the lines of a beautiful, bulging belly. Arms of shaped stone form a set of limply hung arms. Moss embeds in chasms crafted from eon's erosion.

She is the purest of elements, the grandest of beauties, and upon her shoulders, a trio of faces for all to relish upon. One of joy, one of the happiest happenings to ever have been manifested – her past. The other holds a constantly conforming demeanor, matching every event enjoyed – her present.

But the last, twisted and torn, is a frown formed of overwhelming sorrow. Despair aligns upon hollow eyes. Distraught lips align as her last moment of time. It is her…future…

Tilted forward, her chin pressed against her bosom, the three hold their truths. One of a happier day. One of now. And one…of a moment to come.

That moment drawing near…

An anomaly of profound terror…of a scene of I can so clearly recall from one of my nightmares…

A dark being stands upon an earthern construct's shoulders, a cascade of crawling black slapping her shoulders, back and arms sinisterly. Licking her flesh as if a feast, the shroud, the cape covers her fully and completely. The drape comes to a cusp upon her hunched shoulders. This focal point a man bearing armor that glints as some unseen light exists for it alone.

A man holding in his hands a weapon, its tip aimed downward. A man bracing a viper's sting within his once defeated palms. A man that snuck from the shadows we so seemingly forsake. A man that struck while all eyes were distracted…

From here, you can almost see his infamous smirk of the Dark General…

He holds still, savoring every second. He holds firm, allowing his cape to have its fill. He holds still, allowing us all time to view him. Then, with a sudden snap and vicious jerk, he drags the sword straight up – the tip removed.

As a green glowing blade gleams, an earthquake rolls, the planet's pain felt. Winds whip into a wild frenzy, the anguish of the earth expressed. Screeching stones scream, the agony of Azeroth heard for all.

For in his hands, upon the end of the blade, is a gem of the purest green. An emerald of the Earthmother's essence. A fragment…of the final key…

"General!" Movement stirs from the heart of the light, "GIVE IT TO ME!"

Rearing backwards, the General pulls his blade to a perfect pitching posture. Time slows. All actions move as snapshots. Shooting forward, the glistening black blade lets fly the glinting stone. Silence strangles all sanity while the tumbling gem floats upon the heavens.

All of it moves at a snail's pace, yet all of it a blur. Blurred into the moment where all peace is lost. Blurred into a moment where the essence of innocence is thrown into taint's terrain. Blurred into a moment where all one can see is a bright…shining…emerald…star…

Suddenly, the sound of a thousand towers collapsing, a million ships sinking, and the cries of an entire population's pain rains from a closing fist. Drowning it in darkness, the twisted claw covers a once pure diamond remarkable sheen. Absorbing its bounty, it devours that which it so desires…

Sinister soldiers slip into the shadows, while heroes are forced to witness. From below, a Night Elf screams, his sounds lost to the beast before us. From below, a Troll throws his traumatized paws to the sides of his dumbstruck head. From below, we all gawk…hopelessly…

Returning to his feet, the dark giant draws the hand that holds the key to his chest. He coddles it as if a child – or the most fragile of fortunes. Snapping the roots with ease, he pulls to his feet – his agony all an act. A bright red flash bursts from his core. Once dulled eyes burn brighter than ever. All strength returned…

Another spark flares from his gullet, this one blue to behold. Shadowy skin ripples and shakes as if uncontrollable. A third flash; white as can be. Pustules of pure evil pop across his flesh – the darkness is as if boiling…

"I have waited…so…very…long…" his voice built of overwhelmed glee, "I have waited so long!"

A final flash…this one a bright green burst that mixes with the three colors previous. An emerald hue that mingles with the element's essences given freely. A jade glow that signifies the four keys are one…

"It is done!" His form quakes, his instability present, "Know now, my minions, that all events have led to this one!"

The truth forms as an illusionary, teal chain around his ankle. The fallacy lost to the shackle's shaking sheen. All horrors embraced as a link snaps. All terrors held witness as another shatters. All nightmares born as all sunder…

The final bond broken…

"Know now, that I have succeeded where my supposed masters have failed!" Expanding black clouds drag the demonic beast's head rearward, "That I possess that beyond my creators! That I am a true god! I am the god!"

He expands as if inflated by some power beyond reckoning, a growing form of a malformed humanoid figure, "I am the shadows! I am the shroud! I am the darkness! I am all names implied!"

Lightning flashes from his core, sparking the air, shattering the gems around him. Illumination fades, darkness filling the room. The magenta orbs fade, blackness declaring dominance. Silence creeps in, giving way to the words to come. Horrible chills crawl down my spine.

"And I…"

All dreams and prays lost.

"Am…"

All hope destroyed.

"…FREE!"

Exploding as an unholy spectacle of disbelief, the shadows erupt. Popping like a balloon, the god's darkness becomes a tidal wave that rides the tough terrain. A hundred feet high, and filling all we see it washes away the light and pummels all purity from the sanctuary.

It devours the sanctity and the humanity. It vanquishes the notion of heroism and vaporizes all thoughts of savior. It comes from the god himself, the shadowy cover delivered to those deserving. A black façade…shed for those witness…

Slamming into me, it is a gentle cascade of gentle, chilled winds. My reality ripples as darkness decimates all light. My sight yearns for illumination, but the broken pillars dragging with them the dreary demise of the bright stones.

And as I stand, lost in time, a rough rhythmic set of bursts roar from ahead…

It draws my sight forward to the epicenter of light. It draws my eyes to the fading light, the remaining illumination of the shattered life stones vanishing. And within it, the heart of the show, the single scene to behold, is a silhouette of a man. A mere man…

The simple form that we are all molded after. The form that he always was and always will be…

Light slowly dulls, his outline fading to a sea of black. Darkness creeps in on all sides, joining with the dark demon upon the once glorious field. All while he chuckles…

Vicious pulses pound my sanity while a dark sea is nearly filled. Demonic cackles choke my soul while all that remains is a pair of purple pearls – gleaming like headlights of damnation. An unholy laughter burning alongside the flickering lights…

And as I am drawn to the darkness, a voice plucked from the deepest depths of the seas, a voice ripped from the darkest cave, a voice formed from all demons past, fills my mind…

_Close your eyes. Drift into sleep. And dream…for in due time, all fantasies, all fairy tales shall be fleeting memories. All shall be lost…to the inevitable drive for vengeance, and broken by the coming…_

…_Nightmare._

_So close your eyes. Drift to sleep. And dream…_

Joyfully, the words part, the voice vanishes, but what remains is the unyielding laugh. The unrelenting roar of his cackle…before he leaves us with nothing. Nothing but the bitter silence of what we have done. Nothing but the overwhelming screams of our own stretched minds. Nothing but the screeching of our foolishness...

Alone...in a sea of darkness, left to listen to the lingering horrors of our own disbelief...

Flashing, a brief glimpse of something familiar. It is a scene of past nightmares. It is a show for all us to bear. It is a tale for all us to learn from. A troll upon his knee, lost before a sea of black. Leaning upon a staff, he braces his worst horrors before him while whispering the words…

_I have failed…_

No, Tok, we all have…


	36. Epilogue

Ok, as much as I want to leave all of you right there, there is a wee bit more.

Oh, and trust me, I REALLY wanted to end the story right there, but...a little more for the running into the next story. Did he...?

Yes, yes I did. :P

Enjoy.

* * *

**"_It be this day mon, that it all come down to the truth. Whatever that may be, let it be known that Tok Fon shall fight for the Titans and all their glory. I promise to beat back the shadows, and drive the shroud into oblivion. Tok Fon shall not fail; if not for pride…than out of fear of what comes if I do…"_**

**_First line etched upon the pages of the Book:__ Mortality's Memorandum__. _**

**_Right below that is scribbled: If you find this book and you ain't Tok Fon, throw it into the nearest body of water. Someone will fish it up. Eventually…_**

**_

* * *

_**

T**wo years.**

**Two eternal, unmerciful years…**

**Day one of this said span began with the invasion of Grim Batol. The failed invasion of Grim Batol. The heroes of Azeroth stormed the bastion's gates, surprise the aspect of triumph. Alas, it was not in the champion's hand where this element lied…**

**Bursting from the portal, the soldiers were greeted by none other than the Destroyer himself and a legion of dragons that stood in his shadow. For hours, fire rained from furious, pitch-black, sky -clotting clouds. For hours, the few that were sent to spring us to the finale bled rivers of blood. For hours, there was nothing but anguish, despair, and agony.**

**And after a full rise and setting of the sun, the battle was upon its end; the heroes unable to take anything say for a small plateau overlooking the gates. It was with this bleak event that world tasted the beginning of what was to come.**

**So for two…long…years…the world plummeted into the chaos that is the Cataclysm.**

**The Firelord launched an onslaught on the holy World Tree that is Nordrassil. Elements raged, each one turning the world into a playground for their malicious makings. The seas were filled with the vile Naga and restless Kvalidir. The armies of the Twilight feasted upon all lands untainted. And, if not satiated by the situation, mortality forfeited all strands of sanity; plunging into all out war in hopes of gaining what little natural resources remained.**

**The world was truly lost to the darkness…**

**But, if our heroes learned anything from the Scourge's defeat, then it is that no matter the darkness, no matter the shroud, and no matter the damnation the light never fails. Upon this notion was where salvation lied.**

**And it was with its call where the revolution began…**

**Taking to arms, tens of thousands of champions rose to the call of their world's plight. They stood beside the Keepers Malfurion Stormrage and Cenarius upon the foot of the World Tree – standing against the sea of flames. They took to the skies and seas to beat back the growing fleets upon the tides. And after over a year of constant conflict, they took to the small rise that would serve for their revenge of Grim Batol…**

**They took to…Deathwing's Lair itself…**

**Loyal legions of unrelenting, sinister soldiers took refuge in the fortress's glorious ruins. Fire-belching beasts lit the ground with unholy infernos and blotted the heavens with strangulating soot. Twisted Twilight followers called forth swarms of twisted, vile monsters from unknown depths. Yet, despite their despicable means, despite their dastardly doings, the defenders of Grim Batol could not match the might of this world's champions…**

**Marching upon the very platform of Deathwing's roost, the heroes took to sharpest blade, most surged of magics, and truest of arrows. Flames tested the strength of our soldiers. Fires feasted upon their courage. Infernos ignited all sparks of fear. A battle for all to behold…**

**A battle that almost seemed lost…**

**It was then that the Ruby and Amber dragonflights, the magi under Rhonin's command, and all others present concocted a plan to end it all. Drawing their power together, they channeled into the heart of darkness. They filled the armored, dark dragon with energy and strength unlike any imaginable. And as he stood, readying to unleash what he thought was his, he saw his end…**

**The end that was born from the same Dragon Soul that was his horrifying ascension. The end that was birthed in the same fashion as his first deception. The end that was born...from the Destroyer's very beginning.**

**And as the fed power shook his core, the thick, heavy sheets of armor were beaten, worn, and weakened by the mortal's might. Gaseous pustules of power seeped from his core. And the cover that kept him whole all these years could no longer withstand the pulsing energy within.**

**Climbing into the sky, he tried to escape his end. Crawling at the heavens, he prayed for salvation. But his efforts were naught, the seed of his greed his conclusion. Fireballs burst as fireworks from his core. Embers flickered as sparklers upon the bleak clouds. And an explosion that could be seen for miles ripped a whole in the clouds, and let rain down the light…**

**Deathwing the Destroyer was no more…**

**Chunks of terrifying armor floated harmlessly. Flames that once purged now lit the skies with beautiful visages. And the cries of war now rained as glorious shouts of triumph. Many took to celebration, the victory what they thought their finale.**

**Alas, the elements still raged unchecked. So, for a few months to follow, those who witnessed Death's Destruction, gathered one last time, beating the Elemental Lords back and sealing them back into their realms. And soon, even the land was calm…**

**The Cataclysm at its end…**

**So it is this day that people of this planet rejoice. So it is this day the planet takes time to remember those lost, to recall heroes, and legends alike. So it is this day the people of all cities take to peace, even if for just this day. So it is this day…we should all be joyeous…**

**But for some, those witness to the tainting of Therazane and her rise to madness, this day seems no different than last. For some, today is another day. For some, despite the glee, the happiness, and the celebration, a constant itch strains their sanity and blocks all triumph.**

**For some…all they can see…are the shadows…**

**

* * *

**

Today, within the walls of Stormwind, outside the towering Cathedral of light, a mighty gathering of celebrators converge. It is here, amongst the pack of drunken denizens, where I, Nathanos, Darion, and Tok find ourselves.

For some, unknown reason a man of the light came looking for us a few days prior. He simply told us to come to Stormwind and that the speaker would let us know what for. Against all of Nathanos' illogical reasoning, we took to the messenger's words and…well….here we are.

Amongst the humble, joyous alliance population. Standing awkwardly within a crowd that is unlike our own. We watch all the people cheering and chanting as the said speaker of our purpose goes on for the thirtieth minute of this rather dull monologue. Of course, those he truly speaks to are enthralled, impassioned, and enticed by every breath emitted.

But we are not to whom he speaks…

So, it is here, where we smile no smiles, emit no signs of glee, nor speak. It is here…where we wait…listening to the grand words of the grand Archbishop Benedictus himself –waiting for whatever sign he plans to deliver upon us. Now, if only he would do anything else but talk.

_You know it feels he has been speaking forever. Young one, stay awake!_

"Children of the light, today is a glorious day! Today marks the end of what seemed like an eternity of unrelenting darkness. It signifies our strength as a people!" Benedictus raises a hand to the crowd, stirring their shouts, "It lets glisten the power of the light and let's shine those who follow its righteous sway!"

Roars grow loader, their intoxicated state present…

"I could speak for hours, preaching of our present feats, but such foolishness is as foul as those beasts bested!" He inserts joy carefully into each syllable. "So, I shall finish this speech with some words of words passed down to me from my greatest teacher…"

Strong, commanding eyes sweep the howling pack, connecting with as many people possible as they pass. He takes a moment to draw suspense. He takes a minute to test our patience. He takes his time…

"Drink only as much as you can stomach!" Mugs lifted across the entire gathering, their jeers louder than ever, "And if you are a dwarf, leave some for the rest of us!"

Laughter engulfs the heavens, drowning all in something other than the alcohol beverages in their hands. Humans take Elves in arms. Dwarves are lifted upon Draenai shoulders. All members of this faction united. All people of this city enjoying a moment of glory that seemed almost lost…

However, as I feast upon all the happiness, I feel the hairs on my neck stand. Prodding pricks poke my sanity and draw my gaze to the steps of the Cathedral. Following each, gray, stone-built step, I let my eyes search for what assaults my person. I land upon a red carpet that runs down the exact center, and finally come to a pedestal that stands before the Cathedral's entrance.

It is there where the Archbishop stands. It is there…where a man in white robes stares down at a gravedigger – at me.

Locking eyes with him, I sense an odd combination of awkwardness and concern. He narrows his brow as he gains my full focus and throws me a slow nod. Tilting his head back, he makes a motion for me to follow before he swiftly breaks from his pedestal and darts for the looming arch behind him.

That is it…

"Worm!" A stinging pain shoots down my arm as an undead man jabs me, "I think the holy man is beckoning you!"

Rubbing my shoulder, I reply, "Really, what gave you that idea?"

"The creepy eyes." He shrugs, "Who knows, it may also be the horrid sense of nausea I get from being here. Here…in this disgusting, nasty, filthy city."

"I take it you don't like it here, eh, Marris?"

"Don't like?" He speaks rapidly and angrily, "If it were up to me, I'd use the bricks of every building I were to destroy to make a giant fist where the shattered foundation of this entire city currently stands! And, embracing all those who dare pass what remains, is a lone, enormous finger erected from said fist for all to bear!"

He lifts his fist, curls it into a ball, faces the closed palm to the sky and makes to show what he is speaking of, but a swift, teal hand clamps upon all his digits before said undead could give us the show.

"Mon, I don't know wat dat would do in any way, but I'd rather not find out." His gaze drifts to me, "Dat and, ya loud mout'not be important now. Hope here done got some work to do."

As if mimicking the Archbishop's motion, he throws his head to the side to signify my need for movement. I sigh and shake my head, hoping to convey enough reluctance that everyone forgets this entire scenario. But that is a fool's hope…

_CHIRP_

Vibrations ripple from my backpack, and I instinctively reach backwards, grip the tiny sympathizer, and pull her into view. Shacking wildly, her wagging tail forces her into an oscillating movement. Tiny limbs wrap around my fingers.

Her tiny body quakes rather excitedly, and I look at her with hopes she will agree…

"Squeals, you think I shouldn't go, right?"

Suddenly, her movement lessens and her eyes feel as if piercing my soul. She tilts her head forward and squeezes my fingers rather painfully. Great, thanks for the vote, traitor.

I push her to the side, pushing her to Tok.

"Keep her safe for the time being, troll." I sigh, "I am going in."

Before she is lifted from my hands, she begins to vibrate again. She releases her grip and eagerly chirps as he clutches her and tucks her into his sleeves. You can see all of his garments begin to quiver as she shakes from within.

Fine, be that way…

Turning from the four pressing people, and a raptor, I march towards the stone steps and hesitate before throwing a foot upon the first one. Slowly, I take another step. And then a third. As I near the top, a pair of armored guards throw a quick glance at me before returning to their once still stance.

I half expect them to halt my advance, but as I come to the stone archway, I know that they have been notified. As I move into the building, I notice a glimmer from overhead. A small, dull, indigo window rests as four disconnected panes of glass. No light passes through it, but for some reason, it seems to call to me…

_You are just losing you mind. Young one, press on._

Moving forward, I let my feet sink upon the ruby carpet below. I make a right and maneuver down an oddly built corridor before entering a massive chamber. Pillars rise to either side of the long room – four per side. A set of doors are locked upon the walls to my left and right, and force my sight upon the far end of this grand room.

The red carpet runs down the exact center, leading to a small set of three steps. Ruby hugs each rise and glorify each miniature platform. Blood colored silk comes to its end at the base of a large pedestal. Standing before it, bracing it with his back turned to me, is a man covered in white robes. Gold glistens at the trim, and gleams in the light that pours from the window overhead.

Drawn to the glow, I let the bright stained-glass image fill my eyes. I am not sure of what it is meant to depict, but its marvel is overwhelming. Amber rays penetrate from each piece of marvelously made pane. Gold beams form a beacon that molds into a spotlight for the man. A beacon of holiness amidst a room that is nearly completely black.

"Hope Blackwood, it is an honor." He speaks without looking, "Such a shame so few know of your feats. A pity your tales lost to the cries of the ignorant. Grand righteous lost. The light denied."

He chuckles, "But heroes don't need praise, do they, Hope?"

A hesitate momentarily before replying, "I don't care much for attention. That is why I was rather hesitant to come here, and why I am rather curious to know. Why did you call me here?"

Leaning upon the pedestal, bracing it as if his own weight is too much to bear, he takes a moment to let the lines of his answer form.

"Recently, and I do take to the cognitive concoction of the word, I have been having visions. Dark, twisted visages of a troll, a death knight, and two forsaken warriors. But, each one of them is lost to a child, a boy before them all."

Nervously, he lifts a hand and pulls back the white hood from his head, "That boy kneels before a wall of darkness. He takes in only a duet of darkness' damnation. A pair of burning, magenta orbs."

His head turns, half his face visible. Pausing briefly, he lets his lone eye connect with mine. At the same time the light around him flickers, and a pane overhead dulls.

"It is you, Hope."

I make to speak, but he has no intentions to let me, "And I have learned, the means of such acquirement known to me and those giving alone, that it is of the past. A moment prior where the light itself faded, and called out to those who can hear."

Compelled by something deep within, I interrupt, "So you called to ask me what it is? What really happened?"

He smirks, "No child, that, as stated, is already possessed." The smile vanishes as two more panes are darkened, "You see, the reason you are here is that a new vision has come to me."

His words slowly fill with despair, the once commanding voice tainted, "This one takes place in a rather spacious abode. There, shadows creep in at all angles say for a pedestal illuminated by a single ray of unending light."

More panels fade, the light trickling as but a fraction of its prior strength, "And there stands a man; lit by the light, while a child stands in the darkness. There stands a man, while the light that surrounds him fades."

Ominously he chuckles, the few panes still gleaming, "It is this, exact moment. This exact place in time. This…precise event. Whether I sped its occurrence, or simply enacted its proper timing, I do not know nor care. All I know is it is exactly…as…I dreamed…"

He trails off into his head. I, however, am fiercely focused…

"What are you trying to say, Archbishop?" Confusion coats my words, "What does is that supposed to mean?"

Once again, desperate, distraught chuckles rain from his throat, "You see, when the final pane goes out, this said dream ends. It leaves me in a state of nothingness. Which makes me believe that either it is a merely a dream…"

Words halt as he turns to look upon the window. Now a single sheet of glass remains lit. Flickering suddenly, it follows his said vision as planned. Fading, it passes to the moment he has so waited for. Dulling, it lets all truths be told and finishes what the man has witnessed…

And as it nearly gone, the man speaks once more, "Or it is of something far worse."

The light goes out. No more rays. No illumination. Only silence. Complete silence, say for the sudden laughter of the Archbishop.

"Nothing happened. Nothing at all! Ha!" He throws his head forward, shaking it joyfully, "It was just a dream, Hope. Forgive me for bringing you all this way for nothing, but I had to see…"

Interrupting, a rather unnerving thunder roars from overhead.

"I just had to be rid of that horrible nightmare."

An overwhelming silence follows besides the man's voice.

"The truth to set me free."

Utter silence.

No sounds.

No whispers.

Nothingness…

Suddenly, a fierce tremor quakes my world. I do not know if it is mine alone to bear, but I sway back and forth wildly, all current visions blurred. A horrific pain surges across the top of my head. Flashes of black fill my sight. Growing light-headed, it becomes hard to stand…

Then, as quickly as the horrific oddity began, it ends. Heavy lungs expand. Fearful lungs collapse. Rap, rap, rap, a rapid heart pounds. Eyes sweep the surroundings and find the carpet in my eyes. Slowly, I pull to an upright stance, shake my head to see if the world trembles, and wait.

Nothing.

"Child…"

I throw my eyes forward, the Archbishop exactly as he was.

"I was wrong…"

Turning, he moves smoothly and determinedly. His heavy hair sways with his movement, and slaps his cheeks…

"It wasn't a dream…"

His eyes are closed, but his lips quiver violently…

"Run…"

"What?" Startled, I try to decipher his words.

Eyelids slide sunder, a set of eyes revealed…

"It wasn't a dream." Tears flow freely as my stomach twists, "The light has abandoned us…"

Eyes…as black as coals…

"RUUUUUNNNN!"

His screams radiate across the halls, drowning all senses in horrible agony. His screams echo upon walls that bleed a thick black – the shadows pour as blood. His screams all I can hear, say for the quiet slapping of my soles upon the stone. I round the bend, exit the archway…

My legs grow weak…

A once unorganized mob now gathers in quiet despair. A once rambunctious riot rests terrifyingly. A once loud, overwhelming crowd remains silenced. Half the crowd lies upon their backs and stomachs, signs of life all naught if not for their violent flinching. The other half stands or kneels, their faces tormented…and their eyes solid black…

It cannot be…

I dare try to hide from the obvious truth; the horrible revelation the ultimate nightmare. My thoughts avoid the one and only conclusion. My entirety wishes that this is just an illusion, a visage of something beyond the current time…

But…a thunderous call booms from the heavens, calling as it did so long ago. It confirms all, and shatters this dreamer's fallacy.

"My children, a joyous day indeed!" Spinning, I heed the call, turning to see a gathering cloud that twits over the Cathedral's steeple, "A day that dwarves all others!"

Unnaturally, the demonic nimbus spirals above the construct, flashes of lightning bursting. Sparks dance across the holy edifice as the cloud crawls downward, devouring the once divine bastion in damnation. And gleaming where it once was dark…the window above the archway burns a bright…magenta hue…

An orb amongst the darkness…

"This day marks the end. The end of my finest soldier. The end of Deathwing. Of who was slain by all my children's savage hands!" Shadows creep down the stone walls, dragging and shifting towards me, "A feat proud and true! A feat…put forth as not a mere diabolic event…"

They yearn…

"But as a test…"

They…hunger…

"WORM!" A fierce pressure pulses across my arm, and I am dragged backwards, "Run, you idiot! Run!"

My eyes stay locked upon the swirling, sinister cloud. The words spoken dancing through my mind. The horrors that haunted me so now standing as they once did. The truth at hand…

_You need to run! Young one, stop thinking…RUN!_

Uncontrollably, I pivot upon my heels. Darting forward, I dash across the upon courtyard – the writhing bodies naught. Dodging arms, legs, benches, and obstacles of all sorts, I heed the word commanded. I take full regard…to flee…

Buildings before me grow dark, these two gathering a hefty coat of sickening black blood. Cries rain from those caught by the darkness. Screeches shoot from feminine lungs. Deep, rumbling howls penetrate from masculine chests.

Suddenly, a force catches me and I spin slightly. Gripping my chest-piece, a man pants heavily and weeps profusely. Beads of bountiful tears stream down his cheeks while muscles oscillate painfully.

And as he speaks, he stares upon with me black, hollowed pits, "Can't you see them? The orcs have returned! They are going to burn my barn! They are going to destroy the tower the guards built by my farm! They are going to destroy everything!"

He shakes me, drawing closer, the hollowed, black pits that are his eyes vomiting dark flames, "We must stop them! I must stop them!"

Throwing himself from me, he lunges at some unseen figure. Whipping an imaginery sword from an illusionary seethe, he begins thrashing as if the greatest of skilled warriors. He shouts nonsense and loses himself…to his nightmare…

"Worm, I swear I am going to leave you!" Again a swift jerk catches me and I spin forward, Nathanos' face before mine. Sincerity and stomach-clenching significance reeks from his breathe, "If you stop again, I am going to let them take you."

He holds me for a second before taking to his feet. Control yourself Hope. Go, run!

Once again, I catapult forward, rushing under a wooden underpass. Stone slaps against my leathery soles. Smooth rocks slip against my tracked treads. All speed upon my legs. All dreadful designs for me to witness…

Coming to a road that runs against a long canal, I let the sight of once clean waters be cleansed from my mind. Replacing it are rivulets of pitch-black darkness – as if slithering pools of oil. I shoot to my left and continue after the undead. Ahead, shadows whip, slapping the stone as if alive. Guards slice at the roots, but find no salvation.

Mangled claws grasp one warrior. Whipping rearwards, the man is pulled into nothingness – his screams all that remain. We near a bridge. Black waters lash as if trying to get a tasteful lick of our flesh. Swiftly, he dart across a small bridge, run upon another path parallel to the dark water's and continue.

Nathanos controls his pace, his concern present. Dodging a striking shadow, he rolls and comes to an archway. He halts, letting a sight strangle his sanity. Coming to him, I feel the same ice grasp my legs. Before us stands a trio of guards in gray clash against single dark shadow soldiers.

They hold their own. Suddenly, another dark monstrosity appears, grabs a guard from behind and drags him into the darkness. His horrified screeches all that remain. I watch as the other two squirm in despair, their desperation overwhelming their courage.

"Worm! Come on!"

I move without question, letting the guiding stomps of decaying feet fill my soul. Buildings run alongside us, fading to an agonizing black color. Waters continue strike, yearning for a clear shot. Rounding a bend, a voice rains loudly and clearly…

"To the keep, soldiers!" A crier calls for all those still functioning, "The king has…"

Coming into sight, I get full glimpse of the man as a twisted claw clamps against his face. Whipping him as weightless, it flips him over the bridge he stands upon and both vanish into the thick sludge. Yet, where his end comes, the sight of salvation shines brightly. For behind him is a mighty pair of wooden doors, and a pack of feuding fight guards – dark warrior's pressing for the kill.

Desperate, terrorized citizens climb past those engaged. They care little for those entangled and less for their safety. As I dash onward, the sense of sanctuary greater with every step, I soon understand their plight…

"Look out!"

Nathanos jabs his palm into his chest. Winded, I gasp. Blinded, I can barely see the tendril of black whip past my face. Dumbfounded, I take in the savior of the undead as he leans away from the unseen strike.

"Help me!" A cry rains from the bridge to our side, where the crier once stood, "For everything holy, help me!"

It draws closer. Throwing my sight, I land upon a man – his legs entangled by the same coil we evaded. He slides past our feet, and we each grab a limb. The force is remarkable. My feet skid against stone, unable to stop. His legs vanish into the black wall. We tug at his body…but the darkness has him clutched…

Staring down at the man, we get but a taste of the terror he feels. We get a sample of the sorrow and the agony. And we watch…as he is devoured wholly. For a moment, all I can do is gaze at the darkness, its call unyielding.

Sparks and bursts rain from the side, from the keep's entrance, but the call of the shadow is great. I can almost reach out and touch it. I can almost…

_PHWACK_

"We are almost there, you dolt. Don't go all Worm on me now!"

Rubbing the back of my head, I let the weak pain fade fast. The once blocked routes are clear. A troll and death knight stand waiting, the broken bodies near their feet. In a flash we shoot past the final bend. In a flash we round the final trek. In a flash we come upon the two waiting and bound for the door.

Yet, as I come to the safe haven, the dark voice booms as death itself…

"What a marvelous day, my minions! What a splendid spectacle! Pure and breath-taking! Horrid and terrifying!" Rhythmic bursts rain as laughter, as exploding cannonballs upon hallowed walls, "My little champions at play! How…delightful…"

His words roll from the heavens, enveloping from all angles. It is distant yet as close as a whispering voice…

"Hope, get inside!" Darion hollers from behind, "Hurry!"

Turning, my stomach churns and my heart aches. Rolling and tumbling upon the very path we just took, a mesh of black and gray clouds charge as if fueled by some unholy darkness. All is shrouded by the moving mass of weightlessness. All is consumed by the assault of the unknown. All is devoured by the darkness.

Moving, out of fear or intelligence I do not know, I dart past the doors. They slam, bolted shut as the horrifying shadows near. Sound and secured, they brace boldly for the bounding darkness that comes. A handful of soldiers stand steadfast, their shields and swords at the ready. I, however, continue on, tripping as I feel my feet land against a sudden incline.

Facing the route I run, I see a narrow, long, steep ramp before me. To the sides are numerous jarred doors, denizens tucked in their bowels. A blue carpet runs down the center and rests beneath the feet of the very King himself.

"Guards hold strong!" He waves at those behind me and those around him, "Let the light give you strength!"

Tok, Darion and Nathanos reach the man moments before I do, and they are welcomed by the King's commanding call,

"Troll, what travesties are these? One moment sweet serenity. The next…this nightmare!" He throws his hands as if accusing, "Explain to me, Tok. What is this?"

The troll sighs, no words able to escape his maw before shouts ring from the guards below…

"Sir, the gates!" Turning, I embrace the clawing darkness that slips past the seals of the giant blockers, "Sir! It is still coming! What do we do?"

A moment passes…

"To the throne room!" Footsteps chime and I turn back towards the King, of who rushes down the corridor, "We shall make our stand there!"

At a brisk walk, he makes mild haste as we move on. Room by room pass by our sides. Giant statues slip in and out of view. And ahead, the top of a massive, stone throne comes into view.

"Anything to spare before this battle, Tok?" The King Wrynn presses on as we sweep ever closer, "Or am I as enlightened as thee?"

He throws a glare rearward before grunting, "Very well. If we lack knowledge, then we shall simply beat back the aggressor." He shouts for all, "Let this stand show our strength, my soldiers!"

Calming, roaring chants ring from his daunting lungs, "Let this moment be our newest triumph, and add upon the already present prestige of our grand survival!"

I turn, seeing if the words are more than naught. Taking in the soldiers that follow, their faces are hidden but the fear is present.

"Fear not the darkness that comes!"

Their courage strained…

"Know that victory awaits us within these chambers!"

Their will tested…

"That the light itself manifests upon…these…walls…"

His words drag as if he has lost his own attention. It is as if his own focus is…

Painfully, I slam into the back of an undead. I flinch, expecting the bone-slap of a lifetime, but nothing. Peering forward, the pain from his punch fades into oblivion. My eyes drift, each passing second as agonizing as the last. My orbs shake, feasting upon the horrors before me. My vision finds…what I prayed was lost…

At the top of the steps is a pair of dark-gray, leather boots. Spikes run side to side and front to back upon. Each spine glistens sinisterly and rolls to the pinch that forms before the bottom section that is the sole. Sheets of metal are pieced upon the surface – extra support for feet deserving.

To the sides cling towering sheets of black cloth. A trifecta of white, black, and gray ripples across the surface of this fabric as if a black and white sea was siphoned as the very skin of the garment. Following it, the sheets ripple as some unseen breeze catches it.

Beneath it is a pair of sturdy legs; thick plate panes roll across his shines. Heavy iron is nestled upon his knees. Curling steel covers his thighs. A shrouded belt is revealed by a massive belt buckled, the letter "V" engraved upon its surface.

Above the said supporter is a heavy, curved chest-piece. Smooth as the pebbles that the city's roads are built of, it lacks any signs that complicate the design. Sleek and glistening, the dark-gray armor is simple and perfect. It is as if all other armors were once based upon its simplicity…

It runs to a pair of hulking shoulders that end the trench coat of dark tides. To the sides are hulking, confident arms. Plate folds around the upper-arm; the same uncomplicated design is built here, say for one anomaly. At the sides of the arms, where the front fades to the back, the armor seems to turn into flickering flames – as if the metal itself is some sort of fire. The gray armor transforms into a fiery inferno, molding to black to signify the true horror of what is protected beneath.

Exactly as this piece, the forearm's sheet molds into fires at the sides and maintains the straightforward features. Lastly, tiny plates run upon his fingers but do not hide the pale flesh that is his palm and finger tips.

As I take in his hands, the voice that once boomed from the heavens now calls from nearby. It rumbles from the man before me…

"Sadly, my children, our fun has depleted. More serious matters to be addressed…"

Drawing my eyes, I return to his shoulders, letting the curved hunks of metal lure me. Unlike the rest of plate, the designs are vast and difficult to embrace. The edges are pinched, a small indention followed by a bulge that forms as trim.

Rows and rows of unrecognizable runes begin at the portion nearest his armpits and roll upwards into the same gray, metallic fire that rest of his armor so knows. A dozen chains appear at the base of the flame and drag off towards the center of his body. Converging upon the center of his chest, they end at what appears to be a rather large, elliptical amulet.

Thin ring after thin ring is pressed tightly against each other, forming a piece of jewelry that seems as if it took years to properly construct. Tiny, black beads form at the crannies where the loops meet and sparkle an unholy, black sparkle. Oddly, in the dead center is an empty pit, as if something use to rest there, as if something was torn from it its core…

Once again, the demonic boom delays all thought…

"You have passed the test put before you. By your very hands, the Dark Dragon was defeated, and the armies of the twilight quelled. Bask in your grandeur, for it is well earned!" He rolls his hands, motioning delightfully, "And with such a monumental achievement, a great moment of glorious opportunity has sprouted!"

His arms lift, coming to his side, raining gray and black flames from his armor. He holds them…as if he is some righteous figure…

"And now, I pass for your pondering a perilous plot! I deliver a deviously delightful design! I usher…in…a challenge!"

My eyes navigate upwards, catching the faceplate of a dark figure's form. Flames from the shoulders flick the far edges, yet avoid the grandeur of this helm. Simple as the arms and chest, the smooth, sleek steel holds no decorations; expect for a crinkled edge that forms where a solid, flat, overlapping set of ear guards meet the faceplate at the corners of his cheeks.

Like the rest of the armor, the metal melts into flames – upon the top of the metal – forming a tenebrous halo, or a dark, demonic crown of fires that wafts above his head.

"Within the fleeting fancies of our minds, lies a plane of perfection. It is there where the structure, the foundation of our very foundation rests! It is there where all significances are stationed, all basis' born, and all originality orchestrated! It is there where the Emerald Dream blooms blossoms from life's bosom!"

A faceplate shifts. A faceplate of smooth simplicity. A simple curved sheet of metal, the bend positioned exactly upon the center of his face. No facial features present. None, except the horizontal lines of holes that form a quasi-visor. It is there where a bright glow rains. Burning as stars, yet bearing the weight of hellfire itself, are a pair of blaring orbs…

Purple diamonds…his eyes…

"But the dream you so dreamt of is vanquished! In its wake stands the tenebrous nimbus! The vast horizon of despair! Now, steadfast in the smothered existence of the defeated dream rests…the nightmare! My realm! My Kingdom!"

They pierce as they had two years ago…

"Champions of this world! Heroes of Azeroth! Children…of Vengeance! I challenge you to dive into my bastion! I challenge you to break down the doors I have concocted and prove that you deserve stand where I have so generously placed you…"

A pair of blaring beams amidst a sea of darkness…

"I challenge you…to the discovery, to the glory…of my blessing."

He hesitates briefly, feeding upon our still silence…

"Who dares accept that which has been so bluntly issued? Who dares accept my challenge? Who, of all the cities I stand to crush at this very moment is eager enough to save their people from the shadow that slithers so close? Who?"

Not a soul moves. Not a soul stirs. His words echo upon my mind and strangle my capacity – like he does so many others. And as he sweeps those that stand before him, which, if I guessed correctly, is far more than our little crew, he reads their thoughts…and bodies as books…

_You know what must be done. Young one, be a man!_

What I accept it and he…blows me up? What if he sets me on fire with his mind? What…

_You must stop thinking! Young one, get up there and give him what for!_

Ok, Hope, just stop thinking. You have been in worse situations. Yeah, like that one time. That…bah...just go, this is by far the worst.

So I sigh, let a leg lift, but am startled by a sudden force applied to my chest…

"Worm, I will not let your children's children - which will be told this way past your death and during my ever-lasting immorality - hear the words, '_Hope walked forward first_.'"

Nathanos' eyes lock with mine from the corner. Swiftly, he steps forward, leans back from his hunched stance, and proudly cries,

"I accept it, you flaming fool." He flinches as the set of orbs bear down upon him. Taking a step back, he throws a finger at me and continues, "And so does he."

Oh, thank you, Marris. I am happy you didn't forget me in your plot…for the first time. Ever…

Loudly, a clap rings upon these hallowed halls. It floats upon the winds and drifts on for what feels like an eternity. And lingers long past it's normal existence. Following returns the shots of sinister chuckling that shakes the very soul…

"Then it is done! The map has been molded! The plot plotted! The course charted!" His eyes sweep nothingness, his tone rather gleeful, "My fellow friends granted witness from around the globe, let it be known that today, this very day, that the soldiers Nathanos Marris and Hope Blackwood have stood where none other dared!"

His voice deepens and tenses, a frighteningly threatening ring now…

"But be warned, if they fail, and my hunger far from satiated, then the agonizing event of destruction that wrought your cities today will be but an appetizer to the festering, furious feast that will follow when I return for more…"

It is then the orbs lock upon Nathanos' then mine. My soul shivers. My body quakes. The weight of his glare heavier than the world itself…

"Go to the world trees. Go to the gates you know so well. Go...and prepare for war." A hand lifts, three fingers held together, "Go now, close your eyes. Sleep. And dream…of vengeance…"

Snapping, he ignites an unseen signal. Sounds of rushing waters ream from behind and overwhelm all senses in seconds.

Winds whip at my back and force my eyes closed. Dragging at my clothing, the freezing breezes draw my hairs to ends. The world seems to pull us towards the dark being, but I cannot see what is truly happening. All I know is the roaring sounds and terrible chill is almost too much too bare…

Then, as quickly as it began, it is over. Warmth washes over my calming skin and clings upon resting clothing. Reluctantly, I open my eyes, blink twice, and let the light fill my eyes. No longer in sight is the dark being. All that remains is a throne, those that stood before me, and a screeching silence.

A silence that tests my sanity. And at this very moment, I have no patience for such…

Softly, I speak, "Good one, Marris."

He shrugs, "What else did you want me to do?"

He shifts past me jabbing me feebly as he does.

I cannot help but sigh. A thousand thoughts richochet within the hollowed walls of my skull. Some smother my strength, while others drive me to running and hiding. Others, however, seem random and unimportant. Well...say for one...

This one, "Nathanos, you could have just lied in your little story."

"Eh, Worm?"

"You could have just told the kid's that you went first. You didn't actually have to…"

"Ha!" Footsteps ring where all else rests still, "Nathanos Marris is no liar."

His voice draws distant, his stomps booming from down the hall.

"This undead is a man of his words! And he will not tell the story any other way than the truth!" He pauses, "Unless it affects me. Then stretching it is ok."

I sigh, turning down the hall. A set of doors are burst open. Light pours from where only darkness bloomed. And silhouetted by the gleaming illumination, an outline of a decaying, dead fool christens the mind. All of it magnifies his glory. Just how he wants it…

And I smile. Smile of some odd sense of tranquility. Smile because Nathanos appears as something more than a dead man. Smile…because I do not know what else to do. And smile…if not of truth than as a fallacy…

He turns and raises his hands as if bemused, "You coming? You volunteered and all."

Hesitating, I turn around, locking eyes with Darion, Tok, and then Wrynn. They make no movement and show no signs of hampering me. If anything, their silence is greater pressure for my involvement. No one on my side? Again?

Suddenly, Tok's sleeve begins to rustle and a tiny head pops out. She looks at me, leaps from his robes and dashes to me. Vibrating upon the ground, her own feet skidding side to side, she waits patiently for my lifting power.

Willingly, I reach down, grab the tiny raptor, and pull the quaking beast in my hands. I sigh a second time. I raise her over my head, drop her on my shoulder and march forward. She quietly chirps, her entire form almost shaking me along with her.

It would seem, Squeals, that in the last hour I some how went from simply wandering around, enjoying the joys of others to some how being plunged into some horrific scheme. I should be nervous. I should be anxious. I guess I am numb. That or too afraid to truly comprehend what is happening. Of course, from the actions of the others, they make no disagreements to show they feel any differently.

We are all simply dumbstruck and terrified, but cannot truly show it.

The truth will hit us, eventually. But for now, Hope, just let the random, spontaneous undead lead. He is the only one actually doing, so might as well follow.

Marching towards Nathanos, I reach back, pat Squeals, and whisper, "Well, this cannot be that bad. I have been through worse…"

Right?


	37. Author's Note

Hello everyone,

First, let me begin by saying thank you so much for reading this story. I appreciate all those who reviewed and followed every chapter. And I apologize for being a drama-queen. Don't worry; I will try not to fail so hard in the future.

With that being said, here comes a random hodge-podge of comments about my story.

**Story notes:**

The first two chapters were for all those Worgen lovers out there. They did have their purposes, such as quasi-developing Greymane, but I wanted a part of the story that told the beginning of the playable Worgen. Also, a wee spoiler, the end of the second part of the prologue was a foreshadow to the conclusion. If you caught that the first time around...then you can apparently read my mind...

The only thing that I am not sure hurt me or not was the way information was given. You know, Tok keeping all them secrets. I wasn't certain if that hurt the way the story developed, but it still read fine to me. Were there better ways to go about it? Most definitely, but it allowed for a grander revelation at the end of the story.

I found that I did leave a lot of open story lines for some characters. Some vague and only the ending to their stories. If you felt confused. Good. That is the way it is supposed to be. I cannot tell everyone's story in Hope's. You never know, they may just return.

Lastly, the epilogue served as a jumping platform for the next story, but also let me predict how Deathwing will die. Yes, I wanted to state that.

**Writing Notes:**

For those wishing for a bountiful table of verbose, flowery delectables, you will be left wanting. The main character is not a rocket scientist. He is not a genius. Hell, he lived under a rock for a good deal of time. Honestly, adding half the words I did this story almost felt as if I betrayed his character. But, sadly, I have to keep it from being redundant, so new language must be inserted.

I just like to use more of a conversational tone when dealing with my characters. I also like to mimic how one might think during a certain event. Does it always work? Of course not. I try to use my own thought sequence, but that is sometimes a terrible idea. I am crazy, you see. Hmmmm...yeah...

Oh, I definitely will not be adding so many pre-built Blizz characters as the main party again. Trying to develop an already pre-existing character just feels weird to me. Moral of the story, I am just going to create brand new characters. OH NO! Of course, Nathanos, Darion, and Sylvanas will still be there.

**Suggestions:**

Here is the biggie. If there were any parts of the story that made you go...WTF...or you simply want to ask me to add something to the story, by all means, do it. This is the time between stories, and if you want a certain type of character, a certain species, or w/e ask it may just happen. Or, maybe you want to see a situation or more romance.

Give me me what you got, for in this next story, the world is all mine. The lands, the sanctuaries, the people. There are no limits nor bounds. The heroes will be limitless. And the villains...beyond the greatest of horrors...

So come with your ideas, your plots, your schemes.

Let your mind roam, your soul soar, and your imagination reach towards the heavens.

So close your eyes. Fill your mind with nothingness…

Drift into sleep. Let wild images sweep all bastions of imagination…

And dream. Grand, glorious fantasies…

And prepare…for **_Vengeance_**…


End file.
